


To Reinvent The Past

by SomeSortofUsername



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Sort of worked, modern girl, tried to keep in character, van der linde gang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-10-22 04:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSortofUsername/pseuds/SomeSortofUsername
Summary: Collette was not meant to be in the past and yet here she was. She’ll put her knowledge to good use even if it kills her, and after meeting Arthur Morgan it just might. Shame, considering she’d been doing such a good job running from Cornwall.Arthur was used to putting his faith in other people, but when some wild woman starts putting her faith in him. For some reason he can’t quite bring himself to disappoint her. Even if they don’t always see eye to eye.





	1. An Introduction is in Order

**Author's Note:**

> I just got real tired of all the Arthur/Reader stories. No offense to them, I just really don’t like reading in the 2nd person, it’s a bit weird for me. Starts quite quite slow folks.

Collette used to be one of those people interested and curious about the past, wondering what it would be like to live in the past, meet famous people and how people lived in such simple lives. And now? Now, she’d like a fucking running toilet, the internet and The Office back. Also, an idea as to how the hell she’d been tossed a century and a half into the past would be real cool, but that doesn’t seem likely.

She’s been here now for over ten friggin years, thoughts of returning home are long gone. On the off days she decides to visit Strawberry, the stupidest named town ever, she buys a newspaper and sees the year, 1898. It doesn’t even seem real. Though the year was set to change soon and it was time she head out to a new town. She hadn’t explored down south, other than Saint Denis, maybe something new would be good.

Before all this, the time traveling that is, she was a normal woman.

Once upon a time she was twenty-two with a happy family and a promising future. She was smart, _is_ smart. As a child memorization came easy, a perfectly photographic mind made going through school feel like she was cheating. The other kids sure as hell thought she was. There was nothing she couldn’t remember, so she figured she ought to put this talent to work. Certainly not to help the miserable people from her class, but she knew there were people out there, who haven’t done a thing and yet got smacked by life’s shit stick. With that mentality she decided to go to school for biology and biomedical engineering, she was set to snag a decent job, maybe designing the latest prostheses or something. Then life decided to take it’s swing at her with the shit stick by tossing her into the past.

Those first couple of years here were a definite low. Just trying to get her footing in this new world, there was bound to be some stumbles with a little suicidal contemplation. Yea, it got dark, but she’s made it, for the most part.

Originally landing in Saint Denis, one could only imagine her horror at realizing that was as good as it got. They called that a city, civilization! She would’ve laughed had it not been so horrifying.

Prior to her arrival here she had never seen a horse, and now, well now, she knows the names of horses. Morgan, Tennessee Walker, Mustang! The galloping horse on Mustang cars now made so much sense. Who could have known there were so many names for animals that all do the same thing? Crap and freak out at everything, unseen snakes in particular.

However, considering what the surrounding land outside of Saint Denis looked like one could count her lucky. Modern woman like herself being plopped in the closest thing to modern this time had to offer.

Problem was, she had been stupid. And careless. She had also been desperate and terrified, looking at the women who had no prospects for jobs in the tolerated sexism of the past. Just thinking about debasing herself or dying in the gutter, unable to cope or survive during America’s simplest times. It was too much to bear. So she fled to the biggest factory in the town, the things she knew and could do, the inventions she could create ten, twenty years before they were meant to be discovered. If business hadn’t changed all that much from her own time then only an idiot would turn her away. Cornwall, the fat greedy bastard, sadly was not an idiot.

At first it was fine, well not fine but pretty standard as far as workplaces went. Annoying boss, crappy working conditions and close to no benefits. She was the one that had given Cornwall a better way to refine kerosene that would also be cheaper. Created the rough drafts for the cable cars he now had running throughout Saint Denis.

He had paid her too, handsomely, by this time’s standards anyway. Anybody trying to pay her 120 dollars for one of her designs she’d burn the blueprint, but 120 dollars here and she could buy as many chocolate bars as she wanted. It enticed her into being able to live with some small modicum of luxury that came standard in her time.

Then he began to make terrible requests from her. Improvements for guns, cheaper ways to make dynamite no matter the health risks and more and more memos began to appear. His mounting frustration and anger at her were near palpable through the letters as she refused every single one. He felt she was being impudent and rebellious. He had entreated her to a position that would never be afforded to a woman, not here, not now, and this is how she repaid him?

She also had an unfortunate run in with the Italian mob, or whoever they were. All she knows is that a pack of men fresh off _The Godfather_  set started appearing on every street corner. Paranoia had grown so much that she became hyperaware of the Italian language so much so she decided to learn it.

She had practice, having had to very quickly learn Mandarin before her internship in Shanghai started. What she realized, after eavesdropping a bit, was that they were definitely after her and not for Cornwall, but for themselves. They knew she was smarter than the average person and they wanted that for themselves.

One would think there was no place to go but up. They’d be wrong because Cornwall, goddamned Leviticus Cornwall, began to put a few of the pieces together. Not the whole story, but he began to figure out the main stuff. Like her not having a family here with her. Not sending mail, not meeting up with anyone, he knew she was all alone. Nobody would notice if she just disappeared, per say. Which is exactly what he did to her, made her disappear.

He came one night while she was working and just took her away. He had locked her in a room for days and days. He used all manner of threats and still somehow stood like he was on a pedestal. Never mind that he had her feet burned once after a failed escape attempt. Never mind that he locked her away in a cold damp cellar, nothing but darkness and enough water to wet her tongue. Never mind that he ordered other people to practically torture her.

They beat and brutalize her all they wanted, but still, she didn’t give in. In that time she took solace in a quote she had read on some girl’s twitter: Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius—and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction. She aims to embody that touch of genius, and just for the sake of saying it, the girl who posted it, Maddie Marcus, was a bit of a bitch, just saying.

Nevertheless, she didn’t aim to be a martyr. So Collette bided her time. They had to get sloppy, sloppy enough for her to escape. They could starve her sure, but they can’t starve her brain! Actually, doesn’t the body start to digest the brain in cases of severe starvation? That didn’t matter, a year after her capture, Collette escaped.

It wasn’t sly. It wasn’t clever. She stripped herself of her clothes, doused herself in the oil they used to lube the machines and slipped out of the tiny cracks in the building. One of the ones Cornwall was too cheap to fix, even if it allowed vermin to creep in and sicken his men. Just wait for the unions to gain power, they’ll rip him a new one.

It had been nighttime and she had made a run for her house, the place she had bought that Cornwall evidently never thought to check, a small mercy that. It had everything she once owned from her time, the most important being her smart watch and charger, as well as her wireless headphones. Taking everything else she could, she began running like mad.

This escape in particular was the moment she realized she needed to learn how to ride one of those scared neighing monsters. Riding in a carriage didn’t make for the quickest getaway, plus she got the worst sort of introduction to the Lemoyne raiders.

They attacked the carriage and shot the driver. The horses were driven off the road and into the bayou. There were alligators in that bayou and boy they did not like horses clomping around their big scaly bodies. It was a literal mess and she was so not a fighter.

All Collette could do was run, carelessly draping herself across the one horse still alive and rode it’s panicked escape into the swamp. She eventually arrived at a small fishing town between the Kamassa River and Lagras. The people of the town, if one could call it that, were kind to her. Helped her in ways she could never repay. Though she tried, most of everything she had was lost in the carriage, but she was clever.

They had a decent economy stemmed in fishing, problem was, fish spoiled unless heavily salted or refrigerated. The people here were too poor for either option. Canning, was a good alternative. Repurpose the mason jars they already had, smack together a crappy but stable pressure cooker, and they were canning their fish in no time. The cannery in Saint Denis unnecessary. Screw you Cornwall!

After that debacle, she spent some time in the surrounding towns, helping where she could. Nothing so big that it would leave a mark. Just helping a family here, a small business there. Cornwall was everywhere though. Nobody was actively searching for her, but if she caught the eyes of the wrong person she knew it was time to run again.

Like now, it was time to leave Strawberry. Not because anyone had given her the look, but just because she wanted a change of scenery. How novel was that? Maybe Cornwall was starting to chill out.

She had set her sights on a town in New Austin called Blackwater. It only took a week or two to get settled down there. Her home was pretty decent and the town was grow on her.

Currently she was sitting in the dusty saloon. She had just stopped at the bank where her money comes in biweekly from her invention of the ballpoint pen and to pay the taxes on some choice, oil ridden land in Texas. She’s not in it to be rich, but if she could not be dirt poor that’d be great too. Especially since she has to pay just to take a bath!

“Ah, Miss Coldplay,” also since the start of her life on the run she’s been using band names to cover her tracks. Not one of her better ideas, but it got the job done.

“Hey Cleg, you got my bath ready?” She asked, knowing it would be ready. She had been here a few weeks now, and she had been a daily showerer when plumbing had been a thing, so she was a daily bather in this time. In this land of playing it loose with hygiene she was easy to remember. Especially to whoever owned the establishment that had the bath.

“Certainly Miss, right through the doors, you know where it is.”

Collette should have known better than to stand near the doors of the saloon, she should’ve and yet she was still standing there. It came as a surprise to no one except her when she got smacked in the back by the doors. It was a shame too, because today she was feeling a little fancy and had worn a nice dress.

“Sorry there hun, didn’t see ya.” The woman who said it couldn’t sound anymore uncaring if she tried. Collette picked herself off the ground and refrained from rolling her eyes. It was some blonde curly haired woman and she had two men in tow on either side of her.

One with scraggly orange hair and a ridiculous hat, he could scream that he was Irish and it still wouldn’t be as loud as how he looked. The other was a rather muscular, but thin young man, with sandy hair and the slight beard everyone in this time had because gillette has yet to exist. Huh, there’s a thought, wonder if the safety razor was made yet? Collette thought, lost in her head about a possible new revenue.

She did that often, ordinarily it was harmless, but also ordinarily she wasn’t just bowled over by a trio of outlaws. Lost in her recollection of what a safety razor looked like. It was nothing too complicated, metal and a few gears. Of course she’d need a cast, maybe take it to a blacksmith-

“Hey, the lady’s talkin’ to you,” Collette looked up at the man, a slight accent to his voice. He was the meaner looking of the three, a mischievous glint with just enough violence that it was visible. As Collette looked at him and then to the guns hung at their hips, all the color drained from her face.

At the very core of her she felt her temperature spike from horror. She had heard people speak about how the west was being tamed and that gunslingers and outlaw cowboys from legends were going extinct, but not for one second did she think they existed or that she’d meet them. It must have been instinct or something, but everything about the man that had spoken to her told every part of her to turn and flee.

“Oh, uh, no trouble at all, uh.” She stammered out.

“Miss Coldplay? Your bath, ma’am.” Cleg called out once he saw that she was still in the main saloon and not in her fifty cent bath.

Thank God for Cleg! “Coming! Thanks.” Collette all but bolted away. She hated this place, she hated this place! She disrobed and lowered herself into the bath with a sigh. For just a moment she could pretend this was her little apartment in Arizona and she had finally complained and gotten her tub fixed. No interruptions, just silence in the small bathing room. She had told Cleg in the beginning of the week not to send those uncomfortable bathing girls unless she needed help dressing. Curse the corset.

She stayed in the bath for as long as she could, still warm because like always she told the innkeeper to boil the water as hot as they could before she came in. She’s smart enough to know she can’t get syphilis from contact, but too grossed out to really care. So she’ll boil it...for safety. Man, she missed the internet.

Collette rose up out of the tub and put her clothes back on. The sounds of the bar were getting louder and more raucous. She preferred her baths at night, that way she didn’t have to sleep with sand in uncomfortable places. However, she now ran the risk of bumping into the unruly patrons in the bar.

Even in 1899, the bar scene still just was not her thing, maybe even more so. Just men eyeing women and starting fights. It took everything in her not to turn her nose up at it all and just hide away in her house. Straightening up, she left the bathing room and weaved over to the bar. A bit of food and she’ll head home.

“Evenin’ miss, what’ll it be?”

Choices, choices, “If you’ve got a stew cooking, I’ll have that and a beer.” He put her request in with the serving girl and slid her drink over to her.

Once the food came she began to think. It just might be time for her to find a place to settle down for real. It’d be nice to have a place far away, where she could make a water filtration system she trusted, make an engine to power a small cabin where she’d live and just disappear. It sounded like both a great and terrible idea.

Collette knew if she did that, if she got that place somehow, that would be where she died, and that was a bit too much for her to reconcile. She knew she wasn’t getting home, hell she doesn’t even know how she got here, and yet, to think this is where she’ll die, in some forgotten grave decades before her parents are even born...it was just too much.

She sunk her head into her hands, rifling her fingers through her wet hair. “Now, wot’s this ‘ere? You’s all right there miss?”

Collette huffed a large exhale, “Yea, I’m fine thanks.”

The man took a seat on her right, boxing her into the corner of the bar she sat in, making her instantly regret sitting here. It was astounding how she had gone from wanting to make a difference in the world to wanting the world to not even notice her.

Alfred Nobel was a good cautionary tale, any good she could do would be counterbalanced by evil, homeostasis of the world or something. All she knew was that she wanted no part in the evil bit, so anonymity it was. The man next to her was snorting wetly, and looking over at him, he looked to be either drunk or sick.

She sighed with a curse to her caring nature, she cared too damn much for these poor people all living in developing world level filth. She had passed a town that actually had people dying off from Scarlet fever of all things! So where she could, as she had been doing, she’ll help. “Hey Cleg, a second bowl please.” Collette turned to the man beside her, “You hungry?”

He gave her a boyish smile, and she took halfhearted notice of his missing teeth, “Tha’d be real nice o’ you it t’would. Oi, barkeep ah’nother round too, if ya would.”

Collette sighed, before smacking her hand to the back of the man’s neck, it was clammy and warm, yea he was sick. “Cancel the beer for him, if you’ve got it, I’d like a bit of salt, water and lemon.”

“Wot?”

“You’re sick or you’re about to be sick, just shush and drink what I give you.” She commanded. Cleg came over with her requested items, the lemon looking a little bruised, but the fact he had one at all was good enough for her. She mixed a bit of the lemon and salt into the water, gave it a good swirl and passed it to her intruder. “Here, drink all this and you can have this...” Collette patted her pockets and realized her purse was missing. Really? Really? She got pickpocketed again? “Well, just drink that and eat the soup, especially the broth, alright?”

Cleg came back over with the second bowl, “Turnin’ in for the night, miss?”

“Guess so,” Collette said, in her new status of being robbed, there wasn’t much else she could do for tonight. “Just put it on my tab, I’ll be by tomorrow, same time for my bath.” She was about to leave before turning back and saying, “And don’t give this one anything other than water or that water and juice mixture I made for Margie. Put that on my tab too. Night, gentlemen.” She left, annoyed.

Mugged, again!


	2. A Soft Touch Lass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, very very slow burning. So here’s a chapter with Sean and an Arthur cameo. I wrote out Sean’s accent, I’ve realized it’s mostly turning ‘th’ sounds to a hard ‘t’ sound.

Sean MacGuire watched the well dressed woman exit the bar. A wave to him and the barkeeper. “Who’ssat?” He asked once she left. It was definitely the woman Karen stole from earlier today.

“Hmm? Miss Coldplay? Don’t rightly know her, but she came into town earlier this week. Blew into the bar with a mad sort of look in her eyes askin’ if there was a bath available. I was ‘bout to turn her away, had the bar closed tryin’ ta care for my little girl. Just me and Margie after some sickness had taken her mother. Miss Coldplay took one look at her and said she’d make my girl better. An’ she did too, fixed her right up, jus’ a few days and she was back to playin’ with the dog.” The barkeeper leaned in closer to Sean, a bit too close. “I’d listen to her if I were you, don’t know much about her, but she helped my Margie and that’s all I need to know.”

The man’s attention was drawn away not a moment later and Sean was left at the bar. Then there were hands winding around his front, teasing as they went and causing a smile to curl on his lips. “Karen,” he sighed fondly. “Best watch it girlie, don’t start somthin’ unless you plan on finishin’.” He purred to her.

She giggled in response, swinging around to sit on his lap.“We gonna have fun tonight.” She pulled the purse she had filched out from between her ample chest. “That woman was a good take.”

For just a second, hesitation stayed his hand, the woman’s gruff demand that he drink her concoction and paying for his food. Then Karen’s lips all but ghosted over his and a beer was slipped into his hand. Bah, what’d that lady know anyway, he thought with a smirk as he rented a room that he and Karen stumbled up into after a copious amount of drinks.

Then two days later he was as sick as a dog, snuffling around the camp. It felt like a hangover that wouldn’t end. He hobbled around the camp, even louder and more annoying than normal if Arthur and Charles’ glares were anything to go by. He wandered his way into town, the heat exacerbating his climbing fever. If Hosea or Miss Grimshaw realized he was out, they’d have chained him to his cot. He was delirious as he stumbled around the town without any sense of direction.

“You dumbass,” he heard a voice say distantly. “I tell you you’re getting sick, I tell you how to stay healthy and what do you do?” He felt an arm snake around his waist while another grabbed his arm to pull around slight shoulders. “I hate this time, it’s full of morons, just everywhere.”

“What’sss zat now, what?”

“C’mon,” he groaned as his body was jerked into motion. “God must like you, wobbling over to the front of my house. Could not have fever dreamed yourself to a better place, pal.”

He knew that voice didn’t he? Pretty sure he did. “Urse.” He smacked his dry lips together before trying again, “Purse.” He said flapping the nearly empty coin purse around. For some inexplicable reason he had taken to carrying the thing around with him. 

“Oh my God, you’re the one who stole my-ugh, whatever get in the house!” Sean’s legs gave out at that point, causing his crutch to swear and grumble, and then he passed out.

The next time he woke it was in an unfamiliar room. All his senses went in high alert at that. Where was he? What happened? His eyes swiveled to the door that opened where a familiar face entered. The woman from before. Only this time he had a better look at her, she had a pale even skin tone, upperclass, he thought absentmindedly. She had unusual monstrously thick black hair that she let hang around her face, making her look like a right loony. The only thing halting that opinion was the clear as day grey eyes that looked at him with a look he’d seen many times before. Annoyed and irritated, it was comforting in a strange way.

“Oh look, the thief is awake. Great.” He almost had the good graces to feel bashful under her assessment. “Guess you’ll want some food, huh? Are you going to actually take my advice this time and eat what I tell you, or should I get a pitcher of beer for you?”

“No, no, I’ll listen this time ‘round. Be a good little patient, I will.”

The woman rolled her eyes and smirk, “Good, cause now that you’re sick I’m afraid it’s going to get a bit nasty. Ready for the grossest tea that’ll get you better by the end of the day?” The smile on her face was practically evil. “Unfortunately for you, there’s a reason I never went into nursing.”

Sean was tempted to reach for his gun, but it was gone from his waist. He was completely at the mercy of the woman he all but admitted to robbing. It took only a minute for him to realize she was all talk. Oh, sure, she was gruff and annoyed at him. She laughed when his face twisted up when he tasted the tea, but once he started choking on it she was quick to sit him up and rub his back, sort of like a mother would her child. She eyed him as he drank her tea, made sure he drank it all, and brought him oatmeal when his stomach growled. She tossed a towel at his head for him to wipe his sweat, but came regularly to change out the cool cloth on his head, hands gentle as they swept his hair back.

“Tink I’m in luv.”

She rolled her eyes, “Watch it, or you’ll make me sick too. Once you’re feeling better, you can help yourself out of my house. All your junk is next to you on the chair.”

“Don’t I get ta know the name of me hero.”

“Name’s Collette, Cole for short. Call if you need something and leave if you’re all set.” She said, about to leave the room before stopping short, “And please, try not to steal from me, tonight at least.”

“Sure, sure, cross my ‘eart.” The noise she made announced her disbelief as she left. However, this may be a rare moment when he meant it. He was feeling better, much better. Thanks to a lady that didn’t owe him a thing. Cole had returned to give him a bowl of bone broth as she called it. Then she was due at the saloon for her bath and needed to leave. He made a comment about her just bathing a day ago, but all that did was cause her face to crinkle in disgust. She mumbled some things he didn’t hear before leaving. He finished off the broth and the last of the tea before grabbing his stuff and heading out. The small house was nice and well furnished, and while he did say he wouldn’t rob her, he didn’t say he wouldn’t snoop.

There was a nice little kitchen and dining area, along with a room for entertaining or something. It had a piano and chess board as well as plush couches. Nothing of note, just a normal high class house with knickknacks scattered about. Then there was what could only be Cole’s room. He gave it a hard look and crept over to it, he knew she was gone and yet, he still felt the need to tiptoe. Pushing open the door, he didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what he saw. Disarray everywhere, pages littered the floor and were pinned to the wall. Picking up a sheet, there was an odd sketch of sorts with words and numbers. It was one of the rare moments Sean wished he could read. This woman’s room was just littered with pages, pages everywhere! He was doing so well, too, not stealing and all. Now his curiosity was piqued. He took a few pages, some crumpled and others still flat, as if ripped from a book.

Snatching a few, he made his was back to the hideout, “‘Ello! Did noh’body miss me?” He called loudly. Karen and a few others from the gang came out to greet him. Pushing at him, asking where he’d wandered off to. He was about to say before laughing it off and lying, saying he turned up outside of town in a livestock pen. He barely registered what he was saying until the crowd broke apart and he was left alone. Making an excuse to Karen that he would join her later, still feeling a bit off.

It was late, most of the gang had turned in when he saw Arthur’s hulking frame prowling the perimeter. “Ar’tur, my sour faced brother,” he said ribbing the intimidating man.

He could hear Arthur’s rumble of annoyance from here, “What do you want MacGuire?”

“Oh, c’mon now, I haven’t even said nothin’ yet. Won’t ya help your good friend Sean out?”

“No, I ain’t goin’ on another half baked job wit you. Go bother Bill with your nonsense.” He said in his guttural way.

“No, no, tat ain’t what this is about,” he said placatingly before whispering out of the corner of his mouth, “‘Ow was I ta’know that bar girl gave me the directions to the sheriff’s house.” Arthur snarled up at him, “Now, now, tat’s not wot this is about. Ya’see I found these sheets in a house, and t’ought, they look insterestin’, problem is, for all me many talents, readin’ ain’t one of ‘em.”

“And you what? Want me ta read it to ya like some goddamn story book?” Arthur asked.

What a way with words he had, “There’s somethin’ I’d pay ta see, big brot’er Ar’tur readin’ me a tale, tat’ll haff ta wait I’m afraid. Cause, some’tin tells me tat ain’t no story on them pages.”

He sighed like his shoulders were too heavy for him to lift. “Give ‘em here,” he held his hand out for them, grumbling around his cigarette. Sean handed him the sheets and waited as his blue eyes skated over the scribbles that meant nothing to him. “The hell is this Sean!” He growled shoving the pages back into his hands.

“Wot? Wot’s it say?” Sean asked, looking through the pages he couldn’t read.

“Nothin’ I ever seen before, words and math.” His annoyance was mounting, “Where’d you even find those?”

“Nowheres, what do the words say t’ough Ar’tur?”

“I don’t know, somethin’ bout, well, I don’t know. Gears and cogs,” Arthur snatches the pages back squinting at it. “Truh-jek-tory and out-put vol-tage?”

“Wha’sat mean?”

He huffed in frustration, “How many times do I have to say it. I. Don’t. Know!” Sean knew when Arthur had enough, and Arthur was just about at that point. So Sean took his, Cole’s, papers, and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, and that was that. Hope to keep up a semi regular update schedule. Also, I pictured Cole to be able to at least know how to help people with her sort of background in health-ish care, and she really does want to ultimately help people. She wasn’t able to do it in her time so she’ll try and do it here. In case there was any confusion.
> 
> Also! If you read nothing else but this, please tell me if the written out accent for Sean is annoying. Please and thank you.


	3. A Prayer to Mr. Phelps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More set up, I know this is killing some people, so I will try and update again later in the week, let’s say Friday or Saturday, to help move this along to at least get an Arthur chapter in by next week. I realize this pace isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but nothing kills me more than hitting chapter 3 in a story and the main characters are already in love. This slow pace is my rebellion.

Collette was making her way to the docks, her safety razor patent had been drawn up and sent to the patent office. She should be hearing back from them in about...three months. How did anyone get anything done when it took a month just to send stuff out? The people of the past were just amazing. The things they put up with. Shit, and there were just some things she’ll never get used, try as she might. It just seemed that everything she knew, these people redefined it. Like fun, fun for her was doing nothing, staying in her apartment netfix-ing and eating discounted holiday candy. These people wanted to go out and do...stuff. Gross. It was like when her parents were telling her how they had met at a roller rink. Her number one question was, why were they even there? To skate? Where’s the fun in that?

Today for an example of old timey fun, she’d been invited to go out on a ferry meant to chug around Flat Iron Lake. Apparently helping a banker balance his books and restructure investments so that she doesn’t lose all the money she’d put in the bank deserved a thank you.So this was her reward, a trip on a transport ferry where a small group of shady rich men decided to throw a shady party. She sighed to herself. Collette wanted to help others, but helping the creep of a banker was less her trying to help the man, and more her trying to save her and everyone else’s money. Who could have guessed that bank regulations were what stopped banks from losing everyone’s money? Who’d’ve thought!? Goddamn, can’t someone be just a little bit responsible?

She sat outside on the deck because if she smelt even a trace more of cigarette or cigar smoke, she will throw herself overboard and pray to Micheal Phelps that she makes it to shore. How rich these cigarette men must be? They had to be creeping up on Rockefeller in networth or something, right? She’s even seen kids smoking! Where is she? Indonesia?

She leaned back, arms cradling her head as she eased into the uncomfortable seat. She hummed quietly to herself, the song Centuries by Fall Out Boy, just cause she thought about it and it’s been stuck in her head for a few days now. No particular reason.

The ferry was docking when she spotted a few guys down below. She stopped her humming to look over the railing, spotting a familiar ugly hat. She squinted at the Irish guy she had helped in her spare room. Come to think of it, she never got his name. She watched him, wondering what him and the crew of men he walked with were doing here. Collette watched with a raised brow as she saw one of the men notice her and point up at her. Suspicion started to creep into her as the man elbowed her once patient and gestured up at her. The posse of them then disappeared from the deck. After a few moments she heard someone approach from behind.

“Now then, wot’s a sweet ting like you doin’ ‘ere?”

The scrunch of disdain was on her face as she slowly turned to face the very Irish man. “Sitting.” She said flatly.

“Oh shite!” He shouted, taking a few steps back, his once swaggering walk eradicated.

“Hello to you too, glad to see you’re up and swearing. Certainly were well enough to steal some of my drafts.” She said, still peeved that he actually stole from her after all she’d done, dick.

“Wot you doin’ here lass?” He exclaimed, still in shock at seeing her.

Collette raised her brow at him, “Riding a ferry, I’m pretty sure.” His look of horror was beginning to make her antsy, “What’s wrong with you? You sick again?” She asked, a touch worried that maybe he had something worse than the flu. Confusion was a common sign for a bad infection. He still hadn’t said anything so she got up and walked over, even in the dark she could see his freckles as all the color drained from his face. She approached him with her hand raised to touch his head, but he dodged it in favor of staring her down in shock.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, you-you, you can’t be here!”

“Could you not shout for just one second?” She asked touching her ears. “Why can’t I be here? Cause I’d hate to disappoint you, but, I’m already here.” She whispered the last part with a laugh.

Just as she said that everything went to hell. Literally to hell, she couldn’t stifle her shriek as an explosion happened on one side of the boat. Everything else after that was a blur. Sean, who shouted his name at her as he took her by the arm, shoving and pulling her around the boat. He was trying to comfort her, as he directed her towards his gang...good Lord he was part of a gang. Collette resisted the entire time.

“They’re lovely people, trust me, now move!”

“Lovely people don’t blow up boats!” She shouted back, even as she moved forward because at this point she had nowhere else to go.

They were coming up to the people he identified as his leader and cohorts. Faced with more guns than there were men she resisted once again. She pulled Sean to a complete stop and together they watched as the dark haired man he had pointed out to be his leader, began to look very apprehensive and agitated as a man with a Hulk Hogan mustache shouted at him beseechingly.

They both stood and watched until the black haired man shouted and gunned down the whimpering girl sat on the floor, that Collette hadn’t noticed. Collette choked on her scream, nearly vomiting right then and there. She’ll never unsee that, the girl, her fucking face! She wrenched her hand out of Sean’s. Turning tail, she bolted away from him shouting hysterically, “Lovely people don’t do that!”

She was shaking like a leaf, but whoever came up with the rule women and children first either didn’t exist yet or didn’t apply when richer than her ferry goers existed. Either way she was now in the water and saying her prayers to Micheal Phelps. The ferry was close to land, but it was dangerous to head to the dock with all the commotion. She was still a wanted woman in Cornwall’s books and this was sure to attract law enforcement of a higher caliber.

Finally landing on shore, she was too exhausted to crawl her way to her house. She would dare any one person to try and fucking swim in a ye olde dress like this with a thousand skirts then try to walk home. Plus, she had puked right there on the beach, whether from the seawater or the sheer horror at seeing that girl’s obliterated face, she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that as terrible as she felt she needed to get home. She needed a bath, a nap and some food.

With a shaky resolve, Collette picked her soggy self off the ground and made it to her house out of sheer determination. She boiled some water, sponge bathed herself then made a cup of piping hot tea. _What_ _a_ _night_ _this_ _turned_ _out_ _to_ _be_ , _couldn’t_ _get_ _any_ _worse_ _than_ _this_ , she thought.

That’s what she thought and she’s seen enough television to know fate does a fantastic job of proving people wrong. Example A: everything that has happened since the ferry fiasco. After the ferry got robbed the town of Blackwater was flooded with a sort of police force called Pinkertons. They reminded her of a burgeoning FBI, just with uglier hats. If this time has taught her anything it’s that she really hates bowler hats. From the local gossip she knew they must be looking for Sean and his gang. They were a big deal apparently.

She’s not a big fan of criminals to be frank, but in some roundabout way the guy did try to save her. The shock on his face at seeing her, his attempt to get her to his gang where he perceived a sense of safety for them. She could at the very least appreciate he tried to help her. Now he’s being hunted down like an animal by men...in bowler hats. She shrugged, nothing she could do about it, she’s running from her own problems she’s not about to go chasing someone else’s.

That’s how she felt as she strolled back to her home from her nightly bath right up until she got jumped by some assailant. She fought and screamed. _Mother_ _fucker_! She landed a decent hit, causing her kidnapper to double over and drop her. “What the hell’s the matter with you?!”

Catching his breath he huffed out, “Dutch Van der Linde gang.”

“Goddamn, mother-” she got cut off by shouts of more men running up the street. “Damnit! Stupid assholes can’t leave me alone! I’m not with that gang!” She started running. There were five men giving chase. She wasn’t delusional she couldn’t take them, she only got lucky with the first guy because-because she doesn’t know. Maybe her lord and savior Micheal Phelps was still listening. “Son of a bitch,” she groaned. She couldn’t run forever and soon enough she was captured by her pursuers. 

They tied her up, none too gently might she add. “That’s a bit tight isn’t it?”

“She’s a pretty one, they didn’t tell us she was a pretty one.”

“You bitch,” shouted the man she had hurt as he came up over the road. Before she could say anything in her defense, though to be honest she was just going to insult him, she was brutally punched across the face.

“Control yourself Finch, those Pinkertons said that they wanted them unharmed, well mostly unharmed.”

“Aw, I won’t be too rough boss.”

Just before she lost consciousness she heard herself say, “Anything that comes near me I’m biting off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that’s that. If you’re enjoying it, please check back later this week! Also, thanks to everyone that’s been commenting and dropping kudos, it really does make my day when I open my email and see them! Just found that I can reply to comments but I think I’m a bit too awkward to use it, but if there are questions I will try to answer. Thanks, see you all soon, hopefully.


	4. Can’t Get Worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s technically Saturday still, this is technically on time.

“Hey, Loyd, when’s Finch and the fellas comin’ back? We need to start heading out.”

Sean tried to crack open his swollen eyes as he slowly creeped back into consciousness.

“They’re comin’, they’re comin’, apparently they caught another bounty so they’re goin’ a bit slow.”

A small seed of panic lodged in Sean’s heart. Who else could they have caught in their escape? What if it was Dutch? Or, Hosea? No, it couldn’t be them, between Arthur, John and Bill they’d never let any lawman touch them. He passed out not long after that thought, coming to with only enough wherewithal to know his head had been moved onto something soft and someone was wrapping his wounds, and grumbling.

“Literally the most impeccable luck in the world. What did your parents do? Give birth to you on the blarney stone? Maybe it’s me that’s unlucky? Hm, oh yea I forgot what my life was like, it’s definitely me.” He fell asleep to the rambling voice.

He came to again after an unknown amount of time, bound on a cold hard floor. “He’s tied up like a sacrificial goat! What more do you want!” There was a powerful kick to his stomach that left him retching on the ground. “Leave him alone!” A woman shrieked. He heard the thunderous sound of a smack and a yelp. “Feel better prick? At least I’m awake to take it!” He heard the watery cough of someone being kicked in the gut, much like he had just been. “Holy shit, you kicked an injured man like that?” She groaned achingly.

There was the sound of another impact before the man, the one doing the beating most likely, spit before saying, “Finally shut you up, huh bitch?” Then he heard the sound of the man’s receding footsteps.

“Wouldn’t say that, I just don’t want to get hit again.” She mumbled to herself. “Sean,” she called out to him, knew him apparently. “Sean? Please tell me you don’t have brain damage, well anymore than you already do.” The woman said with a halfhearted huff of a laugh before sighing. “It’ll be alright Sean...” the voice comforted before saying very quietly, “hopefully.”

The next time he woke the woman was softly singing a song he’d never heard of, tapping her foot to the rhythm. “Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold, but you will remember me, remember me for centuries...” Distantly he thought about how he’d never heard a song like it. All the songs he knew were raunchy roundabout ways to talk about fucking and women, which were the best songs in his opinion. This song had none of those euphemisms. It was sort of uplifting he supposed. He drifted off to the whispering of the lyrics.

The next time he woke he was on a carriage getting jostled around on the floor of it. They hadn’t thought to tie him down, why would they? Wasn’t like he was escaping anytime soon. Sean knew there was something above him, pressing lightly down on him to keep him from moving too much.

“Woo! Didn’t know we’d be getting a show!” Shouted a man nearby.

“Unlike you, I don’t need the person to be unconscious to bed them.” It was the woman he was captured with, it was definitely her voice, he’d become accustomed to it by now. From what his sore body could feel she was trying to hold him down, to ease him from moving around too much.

“What’d you say to me, bitch?”

“Judging by how angry you are, I’m pretty sure you heard me.” Something banged on the cage they were riding in causing him to groan. The woman pressed down more firmly, tensing all over as she tried to hold him still. Yet, the pain was overbearing, and he passed out...again.

Finally, finally, he could open his eyes properly, the beatings held off enough that he could heal to a small extent. “Oh, look at that, sleeping beauty’s finally woken up.”

“Cole, tat you?” He asked, shocked to see that the woman who had nursed him back to health was bound like he was. Was she wanted too? She didn’t look the type. Soft touch that she is, how she ran when that girl on the ferry was killed. He didn’t care about that girl, well, maybe a little, but he could tell Collette had cared more. She’s no outlaw, not like him or the rest of the gang. She was missing the hard edge him and the others had. If that was true then why was she roped up like he was? “Christ alive, lass, what’d they do to you?”

“Took me dancing, moron. What do you think they did?” She was bloody and beaten, but still held onto the same bite she had when she was caring for him. She’s a tough one he’ll give her that.

“You’ve got a bounty then?”

She let out a scoff, “No, please,” she rolled her eyes. “I get sweaty just trying to do things that feel illegal let alone doing something actually illegal.” She said, cementing what he’d already guessed. She was a normal person, someone he’d possibly rob...had robbed even.

“So, wot ‘ave I missed?” He asked, looking around trying to get his bearings.

“Not much, they keep carting us around. I’ve been hearing a train getting closer and closer. My guess, we’re heading for a railroad or something.” She coughed thickly, spitting out a gob of blood. “For the record, this is all you and your gangs fault. Your psychopathic leader killing that poor girl.”

He didn’t like her accusing tone, it rankled him. “Oi! Dutch had his reasons, he did. Don’t go badmouthing ‘im just cause he had ta make a tough call.” He hissed at her, coming to the defense of the man he so respected.

“My ass he made a tough call, he made an evil call, what the hell did he think she’d do?” Collette answered through clenched teeth.

He snarled at her, “She’d’ve turned us in she would.”

The look she gave him nearly had him shrink back. It was the look his Ma and Pa would give him when they found his stash of nicked toys and things. “OooooOOOooh, she would have turned you in would she? Well, thank Phelps she’s dead or else we’d be caught, bound and gagged by the law.” She mockingly gasped in shock, looking around her in exaggerated surprise, “Oh, wait a minute!”

“I don’t want ta hear none o’ that! Dutch is a good man!” She rolled her eyes, angering him further, the sort of anger that had gotten quite a few men shot. “He is, he took me in, helped me out, he did!” She was shaking her head in disbelief, as though she thought he was the biggest idiot for following the man that’s done nothing but take care of him. “Fuck you, you miserable bint!” The insult exploded from him, stunning Cole for a moment. He could see her jerk back, literally taken aback by his outburst. He couldn’t control his anger. Dutch always had a dream always talked like they were more than just criminals, like they were part of something bigger. Hearing Colette reduce him to the common outlaws Dutch so hated being compared to angered him like nothing else could. Sure, he’d never really understood Dutch’s preachings, but he knew if Dutch had heard her talking he’d be more than insulted, he’d be infuriated. No matter what happens to him he would always be loyal to Dutch.

The rest of the night they traded insults, hurling unspeakable things back and forth. They would have been at each others throats had it not been for their hands being tied. The next two days they spent giving one another spiteful looks and rude words. Sean was starting to hate her, really hate her. Collette was dead set on hating Dutch and if that’s what she wanted then Sean was happy hating her back. Every barb they seethed at one another made it easier to dislike her. The help she had offered him in Blackwater becoming a distant memory.

Their frustration and anger at one another was climbing to a head when suddenly, in the dead of night, they were taken to a railroad where a train sat in waiting. Not a station, just a stopped train on some random section of track. He prepared himself mentally, this was it. They were taking him to jail. A real jail, not some cell in the middle of some no-name town where Arthur or Bill could spring him free with a few sticks of dynamite. He didn’t care though, not one bit. As he’d been shouting at Collette everyday, he’d give his life if it meant Dutch and the gang were safe. They could torture him all they wanted and they’ll get nothing out of him. They grabbed Cole first. He could see there were a lot of men on the train. There was a Pinkerton in front, leading a few men as he exited to meet the bounty hunters that were probably eager to get rid of them. The man holding Cole practically shoved her at the agent. “Been getting an earful outta that one.” The Pinkerton caught Cole, and, almost gently, maneuvered her to the men behind him.

“Thank you boys, Mr. Cornwall will have your money sent through the post as soon as he can.” The Pinkerton said to one of the bounty hunters.

Sean’s eyes pivoted to Cole, who up until this moment had been calm listening to their captors talk. However, just as the Pinkerton stopped talking, she began to struggle, wriggling and contorting painfully. The men behind the Pinkerton worked to restrain her. She began to scream some awful screams, biting one of the men until he shook his arm free. They gagged her after that, choking her a bit with the cloth. Even still she screamed, muffled, but still loud. The usually calm and sarcastic woman he had grown used to had evaporated into a crazed animal. Her wild eyes caught his, she was jumping at him, pleading with wide eyes for him to do something.

“Be calm Miss, we’ll have you back home in no time.” The Pinkerton said, almost consolingly though it sounded like a threat to Sean.

Cole was shaking her head as they began to bind her everywhere. He could see that the binding securing her upper arms to the sides of her torso were so tight her chest fluttered, unable to expand enough to catch her breath. Sean watched all of this in horror, “Oi, the girl ain’t a part of my gang! There’s no need ta do this!”

“Quiet you,” one of the bounty hunters commanded, punching him. 

Sean could only watch silently as they yanked her into the train car, her manic eyes hardening just as the doors rolled closed. With a swift kick of her fully bound legs the Pinkerton in front fell forward, his leg catching in the door. Cole’s grey eyes crinkling in joy as the man screamed for people pry the door open. All the gentleness left the agent as he turned and struck her head hard enough to whip it to the side before her body slumped forward, limp. The train honked, the engine beginning to huff and puff as it pulled the locomotive along. Taking Collette and the Pinkerton with it. It wasn’t taking him, they only wanted Cole, only her. She was completely bound and helpless, and now she was all on her own.

Sean swore every curse he knew, they had fought, she had said things he’d kill a man for, and yet she helped him when he was sick and wounded. She had been so scared just then, her horror etched in his mind as she tried to jump at him, pleading for help, his help. She had helped him without his even asking for it, when he was sick, when he was unconscious, and just now when she was asking, near shouting, for help he could do nothing. As he watched the train disappear down the track Sean felt a very un-Sean-like emotion. Worry, and then he was punched once again, blacking out.

They’re taking her to Cornwall, they’re taking her to Cornwall, and shit they’ve learned their lesson. The best Collette could do bound like this was shimmy like a worm. A very clumsy worm at that. Her biceps were tied, her elbows were tied, and her hands were bound together. Her ankles were also tied, along with her knees and thighs. Literally every joint was rendered useless, she’d be a bit flattered that they felt the need to go above and beyond except that stellar performance meant she was well and truly screwed. This was not looking good, and if that wasn’t enough they even had her eyes wrapped and mouth still gagged. Where’s a plan G when you need one? That original panic when she realized Cornwall had caught up to her had been all consuming. She needed to stay sharp though, on top of the panic. Plans aren’t made with a frantic mind, well, not good plans anyway. Though wrapped like she was she’d need a damn miracle. Micheal Phelps!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this underwhelming? It felt underwhelming and completely like filler to me, but a quickie paragraph explaining all this and a jump to Arthur seemed...abupt. So! Here it is hope you all, or at least some of you, liked it. As I said next chapter will be Arthur’s chapter and the story will begin to pick up. This will be the last Sean chapter for a while, or last one period, haven’t decided yet. See you Monday, maybe in the morning, maybe at night, but definitely Monday. Once again, thank you all so much for the kind comments and kudos, I can’t thank you all enough.


	5. The Woman on the Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the editing sucks, I had a plan, scrapped that plan and made a new plan. Nothing sucks more than having something and then coming up with an idea you like better, am I right or what? So it had some last minute rewrites which horrify me, but I wanted to get this up.

Arthur and the gang rode out, every abled bodied man they had was on this job. Dutch was pushing hard to make this score and recover just a little bit of the money they had lost. A large part of Arthur wanted to listen to Hosea though. Lying low, that sounded like a good idea, but Dutch was insistent on doing this.

Arthur could tell that Dutch was driven to do this, whether because he wanted to steal from Colm or because they really did need the money, he couldn’t tell. Then again he didn’t care, not all that much. If Dutch wanted it done then Arthur would get it done.

Or try to at least, because the dynamite hadn’t blown and now he and Lenny were scaling the tops of the train cars, killing and looting, making their way to the front of the train. They needed to stop it before it pulled into station and they ended up with an even bigger bounty than they already have.

When they finally made it to the engine car, halting the train dead in it’s tracks, men began emerging from all over. Luckily, for all his newness, Lenny was holding his own. They were able to hold back the onslaught until Dutch and the rest of the gang arrived to make the final push.

Arthur’s heart was racing, even though he felt completely at ease. He didn’t like it when a job went off the rails, but the chaos of it, the fighting, the shooting, it was what he did best.

They closed in on the last car, Dutch giving the command to shoot and together they laid into the car with their guns. The last straw for the men holed up was the dynamite Arthur had placed by the door, blowing the door open. The men came out, arms raised in surrender. It was finally time to get those bonds. The whole reason they had risked their hides doing this.

Micah nearly pushed Lenny out of the way as he clambered up the car, scrambling to see the take first. Lenny was an easy going sort of guy, and knew a bit what Micah was like. He easily shrugged it off and entered the car next.

Arthur then hauled himself in as well at Dutch’s request, Lenny and Micah were working the safe so he took to wandering the car. A little amazed at the decadence of it.

He perused the car, taking a cigar here, a bottle of nice brandy there. He eyed the desk that sat like a throne, it was certainly fancy enough to look like one. It had to have a few choice pickings. Moving over to it, he began to rifling through it. Gold plated fountain pen, platinum watch and a pack of premium cigarettes, he took all of these, stuffing them in his worn satchel.

Shoving the chair out of the way, he had more room to poke around the drawers. If what was on the desk was anything to go off of, inside the desk was hopefully equally lucrative.

Then he saw it, a slight, almost barely noticeable movement from under the desk. With reflexes like lightning Arthur had his gun unholstered and in his hand. 

He looked up at Micah and Lenny, still busy with the safe. Arthur lowered himself down, his knees popping in ways they hadn’t when he was younger. “Jesus!” He exclaimed falling back onto the floor.

“You alright back there Morgan? I know this is hard for you to understand, but a little quiet helps the concentration.” Micah said, not looking away from the safe.

“Everything okay, Mr. Morgan?” Lenny asked.

“There’s a person under here, shit!” He swore, looking at the wriggling body at a loss what to do.

“What?” Micah and Lenny exclaimed simultaneously.

Arthur held his hands up, signaling the two men to not come over, more to Lenny than Micah, who said for him to just hurry up and kill the guy. Except it was clear this was not one of the workers on the train. Arthur doubted they would tie one of their own up, especially not like this. Figuring there was only one thing left to do, he unsheathed the knife from its holster.

“Now, I’m gonna need for you to hold still, alright?” He asked, putting a hand up as if calming a particularly spooked horse, though the person couldn’t see him with the sack covering their head. The person was still trying to push back into the desk, causing it to squeak as it moved. “Just calm down, I’m not gonna hurt you, just want to cut ya free.” That wasn’t wholly true, if the person did turn out to be one of Cornwall’s men then they’d have to be dealt with. The less who saw them and knew about them the better.

Even through all the fabric and coverings, Arthur could feel the suspicious and watchful gaze of the bound man. With confident hands, he had freed the feller’s body. He figured it was better to start at their arms and legs to show them he was trying to help. “Hold real still,” he said cutting the strings securing the sack. Long thick black hair puffed up around their face, it reminded him a bit of Charles’ hair only wilder. “What the-” He cut himself off as he was met with more fabric stuffed in the person’s mouth and going over their eyes.

Using a bit more care, Arthur freed the person’s face, and also shaved a few strands of hair. Seeing the entirety of the decidedly female face, Arthur jerked his hands back in surprise. Did Cornwall kidnap her or something? What would he want with some woman? Why would he beat her up like she was?

“I need to pray to Phelps more often, he really gets results,” the woman said to his confusion. Her striking grey eyes stood out against her mad mop of black hair, they were darting around, assessing her surroundings, before falling to meet his eyes. With how she had been, he expected tears or a waterfall of thanks. Instead she just quietly, unnervingly, stared at him, “So, who are you? Coming onto Cornwall’s train, but clearly not working for him. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, thanks for cutting me free, but what are you doing here?” She asked, her mercury eyes narrowing on him.

“Robbing him.” Arthur answered simply.

The woman remained calm at his statement, even nodding her head understandingly. “I see, well, don’t let me get in the way,” she said rising from under the desk. “I-” She stopped short, her eyes widening at seeing Micah and Lenny. Then very quietly under her breath he heard her say, “Hogan.” For just a flash Arthur could’ve sworn he saw just a bit of panic contort her face.

Micah took that moment to snarl in frustration, “The hell are those bonds!” He growled digging deeply in to the safe. The woman looked over her shoulder, following her gaze Arthur went over to the small box sat on the bookshelf. Opening it, Arthur nearly hooted at the sheer amount of bonds in the box.

“Would you look at that,” he mumbled taking out the sheets and thumbing through them.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Arthur’s attention was drawn to Micah creeping closer to the woman. He was fixing her with the same look he made at all the young women in the gang, and really any woman.

“A woman, I’m sure you’ve seen a few before.” Arthur said, stepping closer to the pair. The memory of what happened at the Adler ranch still fresh in his mind. Micah chasing Miss. Adler around, dropping the lantern that all but erupted her house with fire, sealing her dependency on the gang.

Micah turned, preparing to snark back when his greedy eyes fixated on the notes in his hand. Like a snake, he moved forward and snatched the bonds from his hand, “You’ve been holding back cowpoke.”

“Gentlemen! Have you found the bonds?” Dutch hollered.

Micah swaggered over to the open door, “Indeed we have Dutch.” Lenny followed close behind him.

“Ma’am? You okay?”

The surprised look the woman gave him was almost insulting. “Probably,” she said, patting herself down before looking around her. She made a disgruntled sound before searching around her, stopping when she found a leather bag that she secured on her hips. “Thanks again for freeing me,” she said.

It sounded almost like a goodbye to him, but he can’t imagine where exactly she thinks she’s going. Kidnapped, beaten and bloody like she was, as soon as Dutch saw her, his bleeding heart would take hold and just like Miss. Adler, she’d be taken in by the gang. He wasn’t looking forward to yet another mouth to feed, but he was curious just how it was she ended up in this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I didn’t hype this chapter too much, but now that Arthur has made his entrance it’ll start moving. The pace will still be slow though, you will see them fall in love. Every. Step. Of. The. Way.


	6. For the Children!

Collette limped out of the train and was met with the very decidedly not lovely gang leader, Dutch. He sat on his pure white horse like a king in his court, it imbued her with the feeling that she needed to get the hell out of here. That’s what she needed, but her body needed something else. With the immediate Cornwall danger gone, her body was starting to sag with exhaustion. This wasn’t the damn time, but looking at the drop between the train and the ground, it felt more like it was a story high than just a few feet.

“Miss, miss, are you alright? Here take my hand.”

Collette looked up at the person talking to her, into the face of a murderer. She wanted to faint, she wanted to just pass out, but she couldn’t, not until she knew she was safe. She closed in on herself, trying to make herself look small. Digging an elbow into her definitely bruised rib, Collette began to tear up. With a barely perceptible shake, she grabbed the dark haired man’s hand. “Thank you sir, I was so scared, I didn’t know what was going to happen to me,” she blubbered, digging that elbow deeper.

“There, there, Miss, you’re safe now, we’re no saints, but we would never hurt a lady.” He said, sounding so convincingly concerned. It was so convincing, Collette figured maybe Dutch believed himself too. Had he not shot that girl’s face to hell and back, she might have also believed him. “Come along Miss...?”

“Van Halen,” she said quietly, trying to discreetly get a look at her surroundings.

“Miss Van Halen, pleasure to meet you, though I wish they were under better circumstances.” _So_ _long_ _as_ _it_ _isn’t_ _the_ _introduction_ _ferry_ _girl_ _had_ _to_ _you_ _I_ _think_ _we’re_ _good_ , she thought dryly to herself. “Micah, come and help Miss Van Halen, the poor woman’s in shock. Don’t worry ma’am we’ll take you to a safe place.”

If that place was anywhere near shittier Hogan than she’d rather not, but that wasn’t the part she was playing right now. “Thank you so much sir, thank you,” she repeated as the creep known as Micah walked over to her, skimming his hand over her ass as he helped her mount his horse. Yea, she needed to go. Now.

“Find anything else Arthur?” Dutch asked, directing his question to the man that had cut her loose. She took note of her savior, he looked like the most cowboy cowboy that ever did cowboy. He stood straight backed with his hands on either side of his belt buckle. She had thought that that was a Hollywood stereotype thing, did people really stand like that? Not to say it didn’t suit him, it just seemed like such a pose, like where’s the camera?

“No, few nice watches, but nothin’ that’s gonna beat them bonds.” Plus his accent, she couldn’t pinpoint the state it’s from, being the Northerner that she was, but she could tell it was a Southern accent, super Southern. It sounded like The Southern accent. Once again, very fitting for him.

Collette almost winced as the horse jerked into motion, following along with the other horses of the gang. They rode into where they seemed to be hiding out. At the men’s arrival and Dutch’s shout, a gaggle of women emerged from a building and herded her into a beat up shack.

There they treated her wounds with their meager supplies, though Collette refused the medicine. They needed it more than her. She knew she’d be leaving soon and she could take care of herself. A few days later and she began moving around.

It was probably not recommended she move so soon, but plans weren’t made laying down, and she desperately needed a plan.

It was easy avoiding the people of the gang. They were all wrapped up in their own things, trying to pack and leave this creepy abandoned town. Collette took advantage of this and had taken to walking the perimeter of camp. The inner town having been picked clean by the desperate people it now housed.

She had noticed a few days ago a horse that had taken to wandering around the woods just outside of camp. Seeing an opportunity, she, at different intervals of the day, would leave wild carrots she had dug out by a tree in a clearing. Slowly but surel, she was building a rapport with the rogue beast, petting it, brushing it, smooth talking it.

Today as she placed her carrots, waiting for the horse to appear, she heard a tiny gasp. She turned towards the sound, annoyed that she hadn’t realized she was being followed. Honestly, she’d been stalked enough that she should have been able to sense someone behind her, but she just didn’t have that sort of hunter awareness. Looking upon her stalker, she supposed it could have been worse.

Collette barely took notice of Bugs, the horse, nibbling at the carrots still in her hand as she stared at the small boy. Children made her very uncomfortable, no offense to this child, he seemed very cute, it’s just maternal is not how anyone has really described her. “Hey,” she called. “What are you doing out here?”

“Sorry,” the kid said staring at his feet. “Everyone else is doing stuff and no one can play with me.”

_Aw_ _kid_ , _you_ _picked_ _the_ _wrong_ _champion,_ she thought, watching him shuffle his feet shyly. “Alright, well, don’t suppose you could go play sudoku or something?” She asked, laying a hand on the horse that took no notice of it. She’ll be riding him out of here soon enough, he already seemed to like her.

The boy shook his head no and asked, “What’s that?”

Right, the past, it was hard to remind herself she was still in America’s more illiterate times. The kid might not be able to even read, let alone do the small amount of math needed for sudoku. “It’s a puzzle...with math...”

“Oh...Uncle Hosea is teaching me how to read, I don’t know all that much math.”

Ouch, right in her engineering heart. “Well, math isn’t the funnest thing to learn.” It was to her, but tiny Collette didn’t have much else to do. After all, a person needed to have friends in order to hang out with them. “There’s plenty of snow. Why don’t you go build a snowman or go sledding”

“What’s sledding?”

Collette gave him a confused look, sleds existed, didn’t they? “You don’t know what sledding is?”

The child shook his head, “It didn’t snow in Blackwater. What is it?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. The horse snuffled in her limp palm before trotting away until it was time for dinner carrots. She watched him go, hoping he won’t hate the worn saddle she had found. After dinner she was going to try and strap it on him.

Turning her eyes back towards the child that was looking at her imploringly, “I guess I can help.” She said uncomfortably, shrinking under the boys wide eyed stare.

She didn’t want to broadcast herself to the gang in any way other than unassuming, and so, she tasked the small boy to snatch her a few planks, nails, a hammer and a pumice stone. He ran off and returned soon enough with the reqested items.

With the items in hand, the two of them went to the broken down church. It was snowy and hard to work in, but using the tools, Jack, the small boy, had given her, she had a decently put together sled. Like any responsible builder, she gave the sled a crash course on the nearby hill herself. It handled the bumps well and remained sturdy after a few rides down. “Alright, now hold the handles tightly or you’ll go flying off.” She instructed, eyeing him critically.

“I’m ready Ms. Cole!” Jack exclaimed excitedly. After her initial test drive he had been nearly bouncing to try for himself.

“Okay, keep your feet on the sled and I told you, just call me Cole.” She said as she gently pushed the sled forwards. Despite herself, she found a smile creeping on her face. Collette wasn’t a mother, God knew she wasn’t, but there is something undeniable about making a child happy. It was no doubt the same reason that, despite the criminals he was surrounded by, Jack still seemed innocent and happy. They were shitty to other people, pickpocketing and killing them, but they were kind to the kid.

“Jack! Jack!” Collette heard a woman shriek.

Looking up at the sky, it had grown dark. They had been playing for a while now. “That’sprobably your mom, bud. Might be time to call it a night.”

The boy whined, but nevertheless listened, dragging his new sled with him. He paused once he realized Collette wasn’t following. “Aren’t ya coming?”

“Don’t worry about me, go to your poor mom before she has an aneurysm.”

“What’s a an-annie-an-”

“I’ll explain it to you later, now go.” She insisted, waving him off. Though she doubts she’ll be seeing him later. It was dinner carrots time.

 

*** It was either switching the P.O.V. or stopping it here, I’m going for the latter cause this felt too short. ***

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*. Arthur’s P.O.V. *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

 

“Hey Jack, whatchu got there?” Arthur asked, watching the small boy hefting an odd wooden board.

“It’s a sled, Uncle Arthur! Cole made it for me! She even let me help measure. She said my finger is close to a centimeter.” The child answered excitedly.

“You finger’s a what now?” Arthur asked confused. He always tried to encourage Jack whenever something excited him, the boy was just too quiet sometimes, but whatever he had just said was something Arthur had never heard of in his life. Centimeter? Was that a bug or something?

“A centimeter,” the kid said slowly, the word unfamiliar to the child. “Cole says there’s a hundred centimeters in a meter. Which is all the fingers and toes on me, Cole, Uncle Hosea, Mama and yours. Isn’t that a lot Uncle Arthur?”

Ruffling his hair, “It sure is Jack.” The boy then moved along, maneuvering his sled with him, clutching it tightly to his body. Abigail was close behind, looking at a bit of a loss herself, but smiling. Arthur sympathized with the woman, trying her best to be a mother all on her own, with no help from her useless man or her own past. She stumbled a few times, their sort of life not making it any easier, but Jack was a good kid and she was doing a fine job. “Did you get any of that?” He asked her.

“Not really, but he’s been going on and on about how him and Cole went sledding, it’s been hard getting him to smile like that.”

Just then Mrs. Grimshaw emerges from a building, barreling up the town with a vengeance. “Ms. Roberts! Have you seen Ms. Van Halen? That girl’s got a death wish wandering these mountains.”

The news of a missing person didn’t seem to surprise Abigail, “Sorry Mrs. Grimshaw, I haven’t seen Ms. Van Halen.”

The pair watched as the huffing woman turned, continuing the hunt for her prey. “Who’s she lookin’ for.”

“Ms. Van Halen, she’s the woman Dutch and everyone saved from the train. I was hoping her and Ms. Adler might talk and help one another, but neither of them are much for talkin’.” Arthur nodded in understanding, realizing that he hadn’t given the strange woman much thought since robbing the train. He’d been busy hunting and providing what he could for the gang. “She’s a bit empty headed, but a real sweet girl, she kept thanking us for saving her.”

Just then they heard a loud scream that seemed to shatter the night. The reaction was instantaneous as all the men in the gang drew their rifles and guns. Dutch order for him, Lenny and Charles to head out and investigate while the rest guard the camp. Whistling for their horses, they set to ride out towards the sound. “Get inside and hide, don’t come out for no one but us.” Arthur called to Abigail over his shoulder, urging the Morgan into a gallop.

“What was that?” Lenny shouted over the hoof beats.

“Not what, who, that was definitely a scream.” Charles said, his low voice resonating in the way it does. Arthur’s never heard the man yell.

They skidded to a halt in a snowy clearing where a small fight looked to have broken out. There was quite a bit of blood and soiled cloth strewn about. “This does not look good.” Lenny observed.

“No it does not,” Arthur agreed. “This must’ve been something big, a bear maybe?” Arthur said, his tracking skills not so great. Charles was helping with that a lot when they go out hunting together, but he was no where near the aforementioned man’s skill.

Charles was down in the snow, eyeing it with his ever perceptive eyes. “Maybe,” he murmured. “Is anyone missing from camp?” He asked after a minute.

“No, not that I know of.” Lenny answered.

“Mrs. Grimshaw was sayin’ Ms. Van Halen was missin’, you think this was her?” He asked gesturing at the pools of blood. “Abigail was sayin’ the girl was none too bright, she might’ve been out and gotten dragged off by some animal.” Even as he said that, something in him didn’t quite believe that. The girl on the train had been so calm, her eyes seemed to look right through him, and yet the girl off the train was a different person all together. He might’ve been over thinking it, the girl was probably just in shock after being taken.

“Must’ve,” Charles agreed thoughtfully, though it seemed a bit off to Arthur.

Arthur huffed out a sigh, “Shit, Grimshaw will not be happy about this.”

“Is Mrs. Grimshaw ever happy?” Lenny asked to the other two men’s amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little different, hopefully still pretty good. Thanks for all the kudos and the incredibly kind comments. Truly, thank you all very much.


	7. Why Do We Fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like I had been getting lazy these past couple of chapters, here is my apology. Hope you all like it.

“What a good little horsey you are, such a good boy, just keep on running. Such a sweet sweet little boy.” Collette whispered to the huffing beast. Bugs, short for Bugs Bunny, aka the horse she was riding on, was a glutton for carrots, and very kindly, with the lucrative ply of the root vegetable, was more than happy to get her inexperienced equestrian ass back to Blackwater. Her quick stop in Strawberry was quite enlightening.

An inquest with Hector at the Depot, and Collette realized the depth of shit Sean’s gang was in. It was real deep. After that realization, a small seed of worry planted in her heart for the Irish asshole. He had a bounty, much like the rest of his gang, that was too high for her to pay off without drawing too much attention to herself. It was this worry that prompted her return, and had her hitching Bugs outside of the Blackwater jail.

“Please sir, if I could just see him.” She begged, her eyes watering.

“Ain’t no one s’posed ta see the prisoner ma’am. He’s a dangerous and wanted criminal.”

“I just want a few minutes, I never got to tell him about his son, and well...” She trailed off looking up through her lashes.

The gruff man sighed, petting his mustache. “Fine, just a few minutes though.”

“Of course, thank you!” She slipped over to the far cell where the beaten man lay sprawled on the floor. “Sean. Sean! Wake up!”

Collette watched the man’s eyes crack open before widening, “Wot you doin’ ‘ere ya daft girl?”

“To see if you were still alive. I met up with your gang. Do you know what these people are planning on doing with you?”

It took a few watery coughs before Sean could speak, “Prison, a federal prison in Montana, I-I ain’t got the right ta ask-” Collette could hear the regret in his tone. 

“Oh, shut up, as if that was the first time anyone’s called me a cunt, I’m a big girl. Now, what does that mean, federal prison?” He had said it like it was worse than the noose.

“T’ey lock me away there, and no one’ll ‘ere from me again. None of me gang’s gonna ride back inta Blackwater wit what happened, and once I’m in a federal prison no one can break me out.”

Ah, now she understood, federal prison must have been the equivalent of a maximum security prison in this time. After all, up til now all they’ve had are these tiny little cells that probably even the dumbest of criminals could break out of. “Alright, have you heard anything useful? I haven’t heard of a federal prison nearby.”

“They’re takin’ me in a mont’, a train’s comin’ and they’re puttin’ me on it. They said they’re gonna use a boat and move me.”

“Ma’am?” Collette looked over her shoulder at the sheriff.

Oh, yea, she’d almost forgotten to earn her Oscar. Standing up quickly from where she had crouched down, Collette angrily kicked the bars. “You stupid son of a bitch! Of course he’s your kid!” She yelled, pushing past the baffled lawman and stomping out of the prison. Slinging herself on the saddle, Bugs thankfully began to trot away before the sheriff could give any sort of chase to investigate. It was much harder trying to right herself in the saddle, but it was better than trying to follow up that act. She stopped in at the saloon for a quick second. “Hey Cleg, I won’t be around for a while and I need you to mail me if anyone comes asking about me. Think you could do that for me?”

The bartender paused his sweeping, “Sure Ms. Coldplay, you in trouble?”

“Undeservedly, but yea, I’m in a spot of trouble.” She sighed, “I’m sorry to ask you this Cleg, I don’t want to put you or Margie in danger, but I really need help.” She said earnestly, all former traces of false emotion gone. “How is Margie by the way?”

“As well as ever, thanks to you Ms. Coldplay.” Cleg said kindly. “Don’t you worry none, Ms. Coldplay, folks say lots of things at the bar, I’ll keep an ear out for anyone talking about you.”

“You’re too good to a person you hardly know Cleg.”

“And you were awfully nice to a man you’d just met.”

She smirked at that, her propensity to help has certainly gotten her into trouble, but it’s also helped her out. “Thanks Cleg,” she shook his hand with warm familiarity, “I mean it, you need something just mail me, I’ll do whatever I can.” These were her sort of people. People just trying to get by honestly, by their own means, without putting others down. And now? Now, she needed a plan to save the dishonest ass in the jail. “I may also need another favor.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* Arthur’s P.O.V. *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Arthur sighed heavily as he, John, Bill and Kieran returned from failing to kill Colm. Arthur was embarrassed to admit that the O’Driscoll had indeed saved his life, though he’s sure he’ll be hearing about that for a while. The O’Driscoll made that apparent, especially now that he was staying with them.

“Uncle Arthur! Uncle Arthur!”

Adjusting his gaze downwards he saw Jack running over to him. “Hey Jack.”

“Uncle Arthur!” The boy was panting.

Originally Arthur had anticipated a hug, and had his arms open, ready to catch the child, but Jack had stopped just in front of him. “Woah, easy there Jack, what’s all this fussin’ ‘bout?”

“It’s Sean!” Arthur almost lurched back at the kid’s voracity. They hadn’t heard nothing about Sean since leaving Blackwater and that whole mess. “Cole said they’re gonna take him to Montana, to a real big prison. She said-she said, um, that they were moving him to Riggs Station from the Upper Montana River. Southwest of Fort Riggs in five days she said.” The kid blurted out, as though if he didn’t say it now he never will.

“Sorry Arthur, he’s been going on and on about this Cole person since Colter. Come on Jack, I told you not to be tellin’ those stories.” Abigail admonished softly, corralling her child back to their tent. She shushed the boys protests and herded him towards their tent. Arthur could tell the usually calm child was very upset by this.

“Don’t you worry Jack, I’ll look into it, okay?” Arthur said, the promise in his tone.

“Ain’t you got more important things than listenin’ to that kid. On and on, it’s been Cole this and Cole that, Hosea says it’s an imaginary friend. I say we need to set him straight before he turns loony.” Bill said coming up from behind him.

“Shut up Bill.” Arthur said before heading to his own tent, consulting the map he had slowly been filling in with his own little landmarks. It had cost a pretty penny, but had been well worth it. Fort Riggs...he didn’t see it anywhere on the map, but Jack had said they were planning to ship Sean to Montana from the Montana river. He’d sleep tonight then head out in the morning, five days is what it would take him to get out to the river. If that’s when they were moving him then he’d need to ride hard. The thoroughbred he had just bought will come in handy for this. Arthur fell asleep, his course plotted.

Once the morning came, he assured Jack he was going to find Fort Riggs and see if Sean was nearby. The boy looked relieved and Abigail thanked him for looking into it, though she also echoed Hosea’s opinion that Cole was Jack’s imaginary friend, nevertheless she appreciated him trying to put her son at ease.

Five days later and he was riding along the upper Montana river, mindful not to tread too close to Blackwater. To his utter surprise he came across a long abandoned looking fort, the decrepit wooden walls that once secured it falling apart. A few minutes spent in the unsettling place and Arthur was able to confirm it was Fort Riggs, then that meant... Whipping out a compass, Arthur identified Southwest. Whistling for his horse, he galloped out of the fort and towards the direction Jack had specified. He stopped once he found an area full of shacks, containing people though they certainly didn’t seem like the owners.

“So Butch is bringin’ the bounty up from the river tomorrow?” A man asked, his mouth full of food.

“Mhm, then we’ll be swimming in cash, too bad we couldn’t’ve caught the rest of that gang. They’s all worth a fortune.” Arthur continued to listen in, they had to be talking about Sean. “Good thing too, cause that mouth on that one? Only a fortune is worth havin’ to listen to him.” Definitely Sean.

“Guess we ought to start gettin’ ready. Butch’ll be here soon.”

“That was some good food, we’re lucky that guy at the saloon was so accommodating, course, lotta people are hard pressed not to be nice if Loyd is doin’ the asking.” The man said with a malicious sounding laugh. “Said he seasoned it with some special sage his friend had given him.”

Just then the camp all seemed to move into motion as a small group of people emerged from the canyon that led to a small bay. Arthur pulled out his binoculars, but even from this distance he could see Sean’s red mop of hair. There was no way Arthur could take out all these men, not by himself. He needed to wait and hope that he could secret Sean away somehow under the cover of night. If the next stop for Sean was actually a federal prison then this was their last chance to get him back before they had to cut him loose.

“You alright there Hamish?” One of the bounty hunters asked.

“Fine, just my heart feels like it’s beating outta my chest.” The man, Hamish, answered, panting a bit.

“Actually so’s mine.” Said another man, followed by more echoes of agreement. More than half the camp seemed to be having this problem, and a few began to fall in a faint.

If there was ever an opportune moment to attack it would be now during all of this confusion. Using his repeater he lined up as many shots as he could, moving fast, he took out six of them. After that it turned chaotic, whatever the men in the camp were suffering it made them easier to take care of. He was then able to focus on the few well men that were actually a threat.

Once all the men were dead Arthur moved over to the blabbering Irishman. “Oh Art’ur, aren’t you a sight for me sore eyes, well the eye that can see.”

“I see they haven’t cut yer tongue out.” Arthur said, fighting the urge to just shoot the rope, instead he lowered Sean onto the ground. The boy was certainly injured enough that a little care was called for, as much as it annoyed him.

“I could kiss you, if t’ere weren’t so many of yous.” Sean said just before passing out. Arthur sighed before hefting the kid’s dead weight onto his horse, securing him tightly. The entire ride back all Arthur could think was that Jack was right, even more so Cole was right.

Arriving at camp, he called for Mrs. Grimshaw’s attention, she and the Reverend were quick to begin treating the wounded man. Arthur nodded to all the pats on the back and congratulations before making his way over to Abigail’s tent where Jack sat.

“Thanks Uncle Arthur!” The boy said cheerily.

“No problem Jack.” He said, waiting a few moments just watching him play. “Say Jack, who is that Cole person you was talking about? The one that told you about Sean.”

“She’s my friend, we play over there, but she only comes by early in the morning, before everyone wakes up.”

Now that he realized Cole was more than an imaginary friend, he was relieved to hear it was a woman. While he knew better than most the dangers of a woman, he also knew no women were in the Pinkertons, course that could be what they wanted him to think. “She ask you anythin’ bout us?” He asked, crouching down to be level with the child.

The boy continued to play with his toy, “No, she just comes and visits me. Sometimes she brings me books, have you ever read Alice in Wonderland? It’s real strange. Cole reads it to me and does funny voices.”

“Funny voices?”

“Uh-huh, she says it’s just what adults do when they read to kids. I didn’t know that, mama doesn’t really read to me, but it’s so much fun. She’s so funny and smart. She answers all my questions.”

“That right? Well, maybe I ought to meet her then.” Arthur asked eyeing the spring that Jack was playing with, it wasn’t like any sort if spring he had ever seen.

“Yea! I’ll come get you tomorrow morning, that’s when we get to meet again.” Arthur nodded and watched the kid walk over to the blankets spread on the ground. Not wanting to be going behind Abigail’s back, Arthur discreetly made his way over to her.

“Hello Arthur.”

“Abigail,” He greeted her with a nod. He wrinkled his nose a bit, “So, I was talkin’ with Jack about Cole.”

“Honestly, that boy.” She sighed in exasperation.

“Abigail, I don’t think she’s as imaginary as you and Hosea may be believin’. That information he had about Sean, I followed it, exactly like he said. Southwest’ve Fort Riggs, that’s what Jack said, and that’s where I found that Irish bastard. I don’t think he found that sled neither, I think she’s real.”

Arthur watched the concerned draw of Abigail’s brows, “But he still talks about her, and there ain’t no one here with that name. I don’t let him out of my sight Arthur, not for a second.”

“Well, he says he’s gon’ let me come when he see her tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.” He assured.

The rest of the day he spent it at camp doing chores and helping out where he could. He fell asleep after eating a bowl of Pearson’s stew. He was awakened by the gentle poking of Jack and the barely risen sun. Once he got his bearing, he dressed and followed the kid out to the perimeter of the camp, the side away from the main road, where no one stood watch. Arthur hung back as Jack led him through the line of trees.

“Cole look!” As Arthur approached a woman with wild black hair turned to face them. There was a small kernel in Arthur’s mind that was unsurprised to see the clear grey eyes of the woman from the train, the one supposedly eaten by some animal.

She certainly looked different, nearly unrecognizable minus the hair and eyes. This time around she was all cleaned up, her hair, while feathering in every direction, was tamed a bit. It was certainly less gnarled and tangled, like the mad rat’s nest it had been. Her eyes were exactly the same as he had remembered when first encountering her, assessing, sharp, calm. “Uncle Arthur wanted to meet you.”

“Oh wow,” she said flatly, patting the head of the boy with a rigid hand. It was a similar hand that John used, as if he wasn’t sure how to touch the boy. “Guess it was only a matter of time before somebody got curious.” She said smoothly, not at all put off by his presence. Arthur would have to fix that, if she knew where the gang was then she was going to need some... incentive to stay quiet. “Jack, why don’t you go and play over there, think I saw some flowers yer momma would like.” Arthur was mindful of his tone of voice, the boy had never seen what the gang really got up to, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Oh good, I can give them to her when I tell her about the thimble.” The boy toddled off, Arthur eyeing him as he went, watching him closely.

“Let’s get this over with Uncle Arthur,” The woman said, “Hello,” she gave a small unnecessary wave, “my name is Collette, though I prefer Cole.”

“That right Ms. Van Halen,” He asked coolly, leaning into the wide-legged stance he had taken. “Well, it’s good to meet ya, mind tellin’ why it is you’re sneakin’ round out here.”

She put her hands up, the universal signal for him to calm down, and bowed her head. “Please Uncle Arthur, there’s no need for that,” she said using her already raised hands to gesture at him. “I’m just a woman trying to get by and live her best life.”

“Uh-huh and you pesterin’ this boy part if that ‘best life’?”

“Alright, can’t you cool it for a second. It’s not like I hurt him, and I sure as hel...heck, I sure as heck don’t have the reputation you people have.” She said glancing over to the child, checking if he had heard her. “You’re only here because finally someone decided to listen to the kid and get that Irish moron back.” She sighed, “I don’t have a good reason for it. I saw the moron, moron robbed me and for some reason I wanted to help him. I don’t even get it.” The woman, Cole, as she had insisted, scratched at her head looking around her, searching around as if the words to say were in the air.

Still she didn’t look scared of him, it had been a real long time since he had been trying to intimidate a person and they wasn’t scared of him. Arthur found the tension in his shoulder’s release a bit. The woman’s own calm ease seeping into him. He felt a bit foolish, him trying to look all big and scary while she was just talking to him like he wasn’t scaring her at all. Normally that meant he needed to try harder, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he doubted it would’ve worked.

“So, you what? Just wanted to help some outlaw?”

She made a scoffing noise, rolling her eyes just to make him feel extra foolish, “No, not some outlaw, _that_ outlaw. The outlaw I know, and, for some damn reason, have this fondness for.” Cole said honestly, at least Arthur sure believed her. Her sharp eyes staring into his unflinchingly.

“You crazy or somthin’?”

“Maybe, certainly feels like it, but I think that’s just my life at the moment.”

Arthur nodded like he understood her, “Mhm, that yer best life I take it?”

For the first time the woman cracked a smile, her one cheek tugging a corner of her lip up. Chuckling a bit, “Yea, my best crazy life.” Her smile turned sad, “Look, I don’t mean Jack any harm. He’s a clever kid and even I can tell he needs a bit more stimulation than the little tinker toys he plays with.”

Arthur glanced over at Jack, who was giving the patch of flowers a harder look than he ever had at a bunch of plants. He heard what Cole was saying, felt it and thought it himself too. Jack was nothing like any of the gang had been as children, maybe that’s what having parents, or rather a parent, did? They were all trying, and he was a good kid, but no one, save maybe Hosea, really seemed to know how to interact with him. The things Arthur had been interested in as a boy only held Jack’s attention for a few seconds at that.

“Call it a bit of sympathetic comradery, I know what it feels like to be bored with the stuff other kids seem to love. Hey Jack,” she called out suddenly. “Want to see something neat?” She asked, the word neat coming out through her teeth as if it was a foreign sound.

“Yea!” The kid shouted, running over to her, excitement painting his features.

“You have the slinky I gave you?”

“Uh-huh!” Jack said, holding out the strange spring he had been playing with.

“What happens when you drop stuff, Jack?” She asked, glancing over to Arthur, clearly telling him to pay attention. Cole didn’t need to though, he was already watching through a thoughtful gaze.

“It falls.” He answered, unsurely.

She nodded almost to herself in agreement, “A good answer, but, how does it fall?” The boy tilted his head in confused interest. “I’ll give you a few options. When I drop this slinky, will it, fall all at once, float or do something in between?” Arthur almost rolled his eyes, now she sounded downright crazy. Was there different ways of falling he ain’t never heard of?

“All at once, it can’t float can it?”

“I don’t know, you have to keep your options open. And you are very right,” she dropped the spring on it’s side and it plummeted to the floor as expected. Arthur couldn’t see the point in all this for the life of him. “But also wrong,” picking the spring up she called him over. “Want to help with the experiment Uncle Arthur?”

The big eyes Jack had turned on him had him agreeing in a second. “Sure.” He said walking over.

“Now hold it like this, and as high as you can.” She said, picking up the spring to put in his hand, letting the spring unravel in the weird way it does. “Jack, you’re going to watch this bottom part very, very closely. When I say go, Uncle Arthur is going to drop it,” she said shooting Arthur a look that made him nod that he understood, “and you’re going to pay close attention to the bottom.” The kid was level with the bottom of the spring, staring so intently at nothing else but the spring. “Alright, go.” Arthur then released the spring. He tried to watch like she had said, but must’ve missed it because Jack released a small sound of shock.

Cole laughed a bit, “Did you see it? So, does it float?” She asked, and wordlessly Jack shook his head, fiddling with the spring. “Does it fall all at once?” Again, Jack shook his head. “Does it do something in between?”

All at once Jack seemed to explode, “Was that a magic trick like Mr. Trelawney does? Can you do it again?”

Exasperated Arthur finally asked, “Did I miss somethin’?”

“Here, I’ll try to show you.” She plucked the spring from Jack’s fiddling hands. Standing on a nearby rock, she held the spring just like he had. He did as she asked and watched the bottom as she signaled when she had dropped it. He squinted as his brain caught up to what his had just seen. His eyes were trained to see quick movements and they had not fully understood what they had just seen.

“Did it just float?” He asked as Jack ran over to the fallen piece of metal.

“For like a second, yea, and it’s not magic.” She said to Jack as he once againwas yanking and fiddling with the spring.

“How’d you do it Cole?” Jack asked.

“I didn’t do anything, you saw. Your Uncle Arthur did it too, and so can you. It’s not a how question, it’s a why question. Why did it do that? You take your best guess and tell me next time we meet up.” Jack whined, a spark in his eyes that just wasn’t present when he was at camp. “None of that, I need to go, it’s about time for breakfast I’m sure.” Her eyes flitted over to him, as if expecting him to stop her.

Arthur didn’t, he should’ve, but instead he just watched her as she saluted her goodbye and sauntered off. He’ll have to watch her closely, but for now the joy she had given Jack was too much for him to take away. Just more mess to go with the mess they were already in. He’d need to tell Abigail, but he’ll hold off on telling Dutch, for now. If it seems like she’ll be a problem he’ll make sure to deal with it, he always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Also, I really don’t know what I’m doing with these P.O.V.’s. Ideally, I’ll get back on track and do Collette then Arthur centric chapters, but who knows. I don’t, and I’m writing the thing! Anyway, thank you so very much for the kind words and kudos, they’re a magificent boost to my week.


	8. Pick on Someone Your Own Size

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very sleepy yesterday and rather than putting out a half assed chapter I held off until today. I cleaned it up a little and am more satisfied with this than what it was. Hope ya all like it.

“Thunder, feel the thunder, lightning and the thunder!” Collette sang as she made her way back to Valentine from her and Jack’s meeting place. The unplanned meeting with dear Uncle Arthur could have gone better, but it could have gone worse she supposed. She was a bit surprised to see that the Uncle Arthur that saved Sean was the same man that had saved her from the train. She was also surprised that anyone went and saved the Irish man. She’s not very knowledgeable about the criminal mindset and wasn’t sure they believed in the no man left behind motto. So, Arthur going out of his way, back into territory where he was being hunted in, just to save Sean, that spoke to some sort of character, maybe. The way the hardened man’s gruff voice pitched and softened as he spoke to Jack certainly hinted at something.

Hell, he was better with the kid than she was. It’s not as if that was difficult to do, she’s just not the mothering sort. She just couldn’t bring herself to praise kids for pointless accomplishments and obvious observations that so many parents seemed to do instinctively.

Getting to the level of conversation the boy and her had established was after weeks of hard work, and many social missteps. Kids apparently don’t understand physics even after breaking down Newton’s laws of motion, which was just confusing for all parties. Him because he’s never heard of Newton, and her because who hasn’t heard of Newton.

Good with kids or not, she was still mindful, just because he seemed a little decent didn’t mean shit. That whole interaction he had been doing what she’d been doing. Feeling each other out, trying to determine what sort of threat they posed to one another if at all. So long as the kid liked her his guns hopefully weren’t much of a threat. He could kidnap her, but she’s escaped worse than what these people could offer. What would they do? Tie her hands and ankles to a stake?

Not on her watch, she’s back on high alert. She was now armed with her textured ring that doubled as a file, she also has her barrette buried in her hair which came to a wicked point and a few other choice articles of multipurpose clothing.

Was this overkill? Not in the least, she’s not a fighter, she’s a runner. That’s how she got her powerful calves, and if a person is tied up it complicates one’s ability to run. So, she needed any and all advantages to get untied up. She had let her guard down and now she was back in Cornwall’s line of sight. She’s already preparing more hidden tools in between working on her new main project.

As she entered the town she detoured to the train station. “Hello Douglas, just wondering if any packages for me came in.” She may have phrased it like that, but not a day went by that she didn’t get mail.

“Yes indeed, ma’am. A few packages from New Jersey.”

She smiled in thanks, taking the boxes, “Good man, thank you.” Collette strode out of the post office. The unbelievably kind family that was letting her board with them were at church currently. They had invited her to go with them, but she had respectfully declined. She wasn’t really the religious sort, though the whole time travel thing was making her question the nonexistence of a higher power. Nevertheless it seemed disingenuous for a nonbeliever like her to go.

After retrieving her mail, she headed back to the ranch the Downes’ owned. They had given her their under utilized shed for a few experiments, and were allowing her to stay free of rent.

That was crazy to Collette. She had insisted on paying them after realizing the family was in some dire straits themselves and needed help. Living with these people, she realized that there was not a human on this Earth quite like Thomas Downes. The man had seen her, nearly crazed, outside the hotel shouting for service. With gentle placating hands, Tom explained last night there was a bit of a brawl that caused the town to shutdown for a time. Collette nearly snarled at him, a fistfight was enough to scare a town into a standstill? Really?

She was admittedly not at her best, tired from the long trip of getting as far away from Blackwater as she could. She was practically spitting fire at the shut door. Then ever so softly he asked if she might be in need of some help.

Only an idiot would have said no to the offer, but had she been a more terrible person she could have easily taken advantage of this giving family. They gave and gave, unquestionably, though it had taken some warming up to with Edith, Thomas was prepared to give her the shirt off his back. 

It took only a day or two before she began to get suspicious of the persistent cough Thomas had. Taking a trip to the doctor in town, a rarity for a town to have, she got a medical bag with as many medical devices they had for purchase, as well as making a few specialty requests.

Using the pretty shitty stethoscope, she could hear the telltale rattle of a lung problem and, along with his enlarged lymph nodes, it was obvious he had a problem. After hearing for how long the symptoms had persisted it was not much of a leap to diagnose the well meaning man with tuberculosis.

And so, now she was fighting to create antibiotics thirty years before they were ever discovered let alone used as a treatment.

“Hey Pam, Jim, Dwight, Micheal,” she called out to the cantaloupes she had been carefully monitoring for mold, more specifically, penicillin mold.Checking on the fruits, it looked like Jim was the most promising so far.

Then she unloaded the boxes onto the desk Archie had put together for her. This wasn’t the sterile lab environment she was used to, but something is better than nothing. Like this mockery of a microscope, it was better than nothing.

She’s no microbiologist, full disclosure there, but what she does have are samples from Tom. Her shitty agar plates were locked in a thick safe, nurturing Tom’s tuberculosis bacterium. It was a case of trial and error. She needed to isolate an antibiotic to a decent sample and add it to a plate. Which ever plate has stunted bacteria growth is the plate that will have her tuberculosis fighting antibiotic.

Jesus, she’s really just stealing the thunder from everyone. First Mr. Flemming now Kirby and Bauer, _it’s_ _for_ _a_ _good_ _cause_ _though_ _so_ _screw_ _it_. It’s to save a life, she can’t imagine they’d be too angry. She spent the rest of the day locked in the shed, singing softly as her watch played her music.

“Ms. Cole? Supper is ready.” Called a voice from outside the door.

“Hey, pause.” She commanded her watch. “Thanks Archie, I’ll be out in a second, just let me get ready.” Handling Tom’s tuberculosis didn’t worry her, she was in experimental medicine after all. She’d been vaccinated with every available vaccine under the sun and booster-ed to high heaven. What she did worry about was the other none infected members of the family.

Their patriarch carried the very thing that was called the white plague, as in a disease comparable to the black plague aka the disease that wiped out over a quarter if Europe. The man doesn’t need to be locked away, but a little caution would be appreciated.

She followed sterile procedure as best she could exiting the shed. She changed out of her lab clothes, mindful of what her barehands touched after removing her gloves. Collette then did a good washing and rub down with some water before she made her way to the main house.

The fireplace was roaring, keeping the house warm and dry, the windows cracked open to circulate the air. “Mrs. Downes,” Collette greeted as she sat at the table. “How you feeling Tom?”

“Well enough, Ms. Cole.” Tom said with too much optimism given his position.

Collette hadn’t yet told the Downes she had been trying to work on a cure. They knew she was working on something, just not what. They just leave her be. No questions, no suspicion. She wanted to tell them, but she couldn’t bare to give these people hope when she hadn’t even gotten a decent sample of anything.

Not only that, but Tom was in a bad way. This insufferably kind giving man was dying and she had been trying relentlessly to help him. The sparse visits to Jack had become a sort of reprieve for her. The depression of the situation at the house was sometimes too much to handle, making a slinky was a nice break from the windowless shed. She’d been trying so hard, so damn hard, and yet. She winced as Tom hacked into the surgical mask she had fashioned for him. Collette clenched her teeth when she saw red blobs seeping into the cloth. 

“Let me get you a new one dear,” Edith said, swiftly rising from the table they all sat at.

Furrowing her brows, angry at her own uselessness, Collette couldn’t help but think, _all her fucking smarts and it won’t be a enough to save this goddamn saint of a man_! She stood abruptly, “Archie you can have my serving. Tom make sure you eat all of that and drink the tea. I’ll be in my shed. Thank you for the meal.” She said curtly, exiting the main house in a huff.

She stormed into the shed, redressed into her lab clothes, and squaring her shoulders, she turned up her music and got to damn work. “My life, my love, my drive, it came from... Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer...”

Suddenly there was a commotion, and Collette staggered out of the shed, blinded by the sun. She had no idea what day it was or how long she’d been in there, all she knew was that there was the sounds of a struggle outside. Stepping out of the shed, Collette saw a man holding Tom by the collar, pummeling his face in. The next instance she saw red. She ran up behind the large man and with all the force her fatigued body had, she rammed her knee right between the man’s legs.

The man released a choked exclamation of pain, hunching like most men would. Using the asshole’s moment of weakness, she grabbed the man by the shoulders and yanked him off Tom. “Get in the house Tom.” She snarled to the ill man, unable to keep her anger in check. Tom tried to put up a fight, an argument on his lips that he wouldn’t leave her with his attacker, as if he wasn’t just getting his nose punched into his face. “Get. In. The. Fucking. House. Tom.”

Tom looked shocked, but nevertheless scrambled to his feet and raced into his house. Just as Collette turned to unleash one hell of a tongue lashing, Tom’s assailant all but tackled her to the ground, punching her clean across the face before leaping off her with an exclamation of shock. Collette remained on the floor, utterly dazed from the impact of the punch.

“The hell is wrong witchu!?”

It took a second for her to get her bearings before her eyes focused on a most familiar face. “No! You don’t get to ask that question! What the fuck is the matter with you! Do you just go around beating up sick men?” She shouted, spitting out the blood that had gathered in her mouth. She’d forgotten the mask she had on her face though, and so the blood just spattered around in it. _Gross_.

“This ain’t what it looks like, he owes my gang money I-” Collette surged forward, her knee snapping right between his legs a second time. The man fell to the ground, “Will you stop doin’ that!”

No, if he rose up even an inch she’d do it again. Collette knew the Downes’ were having some tough financial times. She’d done what she could, paying a generous rent and buying groceries so that they didn’t have to rely on their barren farm. Clearly it hadn’t been enough, and Tom felt the need to take out some loan or something with a gang of criminals.

“Look, ma’am, I know it’s upsetin’, but that man owes my gang a bit of money and now it’s time to collect. Now, I’m just tryna do my job and get the money we’re owed.”

Collette was looking at the man in front of her with a steely glare. Who was this man? Was this the Uncle Arthur Jack looked up to? Was this seriously the guy that had gently cut her bindings and led her off the train? “The man is sick, very sick, can’t you just waive the loan or something? He obviously doesn’t have the money to pay you.”

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh, as if this was such a difficult thing for him. “I wish I could, but that just ain’t how this works. I need my money ma’am, so why don’t you go get yer husband and let us settle this.”

She gave him a confused look, her head jerking back from his comment. Husband? Did he not recognize her? It took only a moment before she remembered she still had her lab gear on. Thick clothing with a tight high collar that covered a good portion of her face, he had no idea who she was. “No, we’re going to settle this. How much does he owe you?”

“I’d rather be havin’ this discussion-”

Pulling down the mask over her mouth and nose, “How much is it Arthur?” She demanded, her rage cooling to a frosty anger.

She looked him dead in the eyes, hoping he could see all her emotions, all her distrust and a touch of disappointment. Collette doesn’t know why she had thought he would be better than this, hell Sean was probably just as twisted as he was. If Collette was honest, she didn’t really care that he stole, she didn’t even care that he killed. The police had their own guns they could fight back, it was the eternal struggle of criminal and lawman. What horrified her to the very core was that it was fucking Tom, he was beating up Thomas-dying-of-tuberculosis-Downes, and that shit just wasn’t going to fly. She was disgusted, disappointed and seething with justified anger. “Arthur.” She called, commanding him to speak.

She knew he was surprised, just a little bit, could hear his soft whisper of ‘what in the-’ on his lips. Then he straightened up, his shoulders pulled back, “Five hundered and forty-two.”

“Ah, can’t leave off the two dollars now can we?” Collette spat, walking past him, “I have to get my money, this way.” She said, not trusting him enough to be left alone. Entering her shed, she pulled out exactly 542$ from her money purse. She held it out to him and he took it, counting it.

“Thank you Mrs. Downes.” He said cheerily. “You understand this is jus’ business.”

“Get out of here,” she growled. “Never come back, leave these fucking people alone.” Her heart ached with betrayal, this man, these people were more than just criminals, they were something worse. “Tell Jack I’m sorry that I won’t be able to meet with him.”

That grabbed Arthur’s attention, the greed receded along with the cruelty. “Hold on just a minute-”

“Get out Arthur, just go.”

“Ms. Cole!” Cried an anxious voice from the porch of the house.

“I’m coming Mrs. Downes.” Collette said calmly, she gave the blonde man one last loaded look before giving all her attention to the panicking woman. “Is Tom alright? I made something that I think might help him.” She gave Arthur one final glare before striding across the front lawn and into the house, her head held high the entire time. She was no saint, she wasn’t good like Tom, she’s lied and schemed just to ensure her own survival, but she’d never hurt the defenseless. _Never_ , she thought slamming the door and smothering the sound of the hooves racing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like too easily I forget that Arthur was a helluva dick in the beginning. I really am trying to stay a bit accurate to the game so I’ve been watching playthroughs of the missions I’ve been referencing and I was like, ooooh yea he was an asshole. So, yea just trying to keep it true to the game, just with an extra character that tweaks things, cause he doesn’t need a Mary, he needs a Collette damnit!


	9. Hangover Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but I have been trying to keep pretty regular with these updates so missing last week was a bit annoying to me. So here’s a double-date, aka a double update. Wooo...please bear with me, these coming weeks for me are going to get worse before they get better. Like way worse, so expect some sporadic updates and know it annoys me too.

After the incident at the Downes’ Arthur continued on like usual, collecting the debt certainly didn’t go like how it normally goes, but he got the money and that’s all he cared about. He did feel a small amount of regret for Jack, who had grown just a bit more withdrawn, a little more sullen. A small part of him knew it was because he was no longer seeing Cole. She had kept to her promise, visiting Jack one last time to say her goodbyes before leaving the pleading child. It had been days, weeks since Jack had seen her and it was clear he missed her. Jack had taken to sitting on his sled and wiggling the loose spring that the woman had given him. Hopefully he’d forget her soon, Abigail was worrying herself ragged with how sad the kid had gotten.

It was that guilt that made it less of a chore to agree with Dutch and usher Lenny onto his horse while he mounted his own. Together they rode for Valentine, Lenny telling tale of what happened in Strawberry and another reason not to like Micah.

A nice stiff drink would do him good, do Lenny some good too. Poor kid was shaken up from all the nonsense he had been put through. Though the one or two drinks he had told Lenny they would be drinking seemed to have added up to be something higher than two. Much, much higher. Much, much, much-wait, where’s Lenny?

Arthur groaned as he rolled over on the bed and then promptly threw up everything in his stomach into the metal bucket placed beside the bed. “Gross, you done?” Arthur jerked at the voice, spinning around to face the owner. He was confronted by a very casually sat figure that was non other than Cole. She sat in an armchair, legs crossed at her knee and chin resting in the palm of her hand. He wasn’t intimidated by her by any means, but he was preparing for whatever it was she was about to do. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Watching a drunk idiot, though I guess you’re a hungover idiot now.” She answered, one unamused brow lifting. She sighed before uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, “Your friend Lenny got taken by the Sheriff, might wanna go bail him out.”

“Jus’ like that,” he said, not comprehending the situation. “You’d help me?”

Cole scoffed, fixing him with a cold stare, the yellowish hue from where a bruise was healing marring the left side of her face. “Of course not, you’re still a piece of shit in my book, but unlike you when someone is blubbering and acting pathetic, I’ll actually try my best to help them.” She then stood from the chair.

“Blubberin’...” he mumbled quietly to himself.

“The room’s been paid for and I sent for a pitcher of water, make sure to drink it.” The woman then left, slamming the door...hard. Arthur’s hands flew to cradle his head as he groaned in pain. He could hear the woman’s laughter recede as she left. She had to have been one of the craziest people he had met and he’s met a lot of folks.

He grumbled and poured himself a cup of the water. “Blubberin’, I don’t blubber.”

After a long sobering bath and some more water, Arthur was able to make his way down the street to the Sheriff’s where he got Lenny released.

“You make sure to watch yer friend next time. Drunk is one thing, but disruptive like you was? That’s when I have a problem.”

“I understand, promise, be on my best behavior.” He said gruffly, still not fully recovered from the morning. “C’mon Lenny,” he said, putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder to help steer his stumbling form.

“Also, if you’ve got time there’s a new bounty posted.” Arthur saluted to the sheriff as they exited the jailhouse.

“You okay, kid?” Arthur asked, patting the shoulder he was holding. He herded the young man to the bench just outside the general store. He bought a few unoffensive foods and took the vacant seat beside the groaning man. He handed Lenny some crackers and gave him the water sack he had refilled at the inn.

Lenny took them and slowly ate and drank, “Yea, thanks Arthur.” They sat for a while, until Lenny was able to stand and step out into the sun without shrinking back like some sort of vampire. “I gotta say though,” Lenny said over the hoofbeats of their horses, “I did have fun.” That caused a bubble of laughter to spark between the two. They were nearing the camp when Lenny asked, “By the way Arthur, who was that lady you were with? Was that, that Mary woman some folks back at camp were talkin’ bout?”

“What? No, no.” As if Mary would ever go to a saloon, maybe once when they were younger, but not now, not anymore. “That was some crazy lady I met collectin’ Strauss’ debts. She went wild when I was tryin’ to get some feller to pay up.”

“Huh.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the sound Lenny made. “What’s that s’posed ta mean?”

“Nothin’, it’s just, maybe ‘wild’ means something else to me.”

Getting frustrated, “And what’s that s’posed ta mean?”

“Well, I don’t remember much, but after the dance line I coulda sworn I saw you two looked awful close.” The suggestion in Lenny’s tone irked Arthur, the kid hadn’t been running with them long or he’d have known that Arthur hasn’t had anyone awful close to him in a long time. After arriving at camp Arthur crawled into his cot, trying to sleep the rest of the hangover off.

 

                                              ~A Trip Back Through Time and A Change of Perspective~

 

Collette had just wanted to have a nice evening out. Finding the antibiotics for Tom had been exhausting, making enough to meet the long antibiotic regiment Tuberculosis required was murder. She had hundreds of agar plates back at the shed nurturing her rifampicin. The shitty quality of the plates having caused more samples than she’d like to spoil, and the fumes from the ammonia and peroxide had begun to really get to her. She just needed a night out laughing at drunk idiots making fools of themselves. Was that too much to ask? Apparently yes.

Oh sure, it had been fun at first, she was almost glad she hadn’t left when Arthur and his friend had arrived. It seemed a bit tense at first, but after Arthur defused a possibly tense situation, the drinks just seemed to keep on flowing. It was strange to see the beastly man act almost likable. Why he couldn’t act so cordially all the time was beyond her. Nevertheless she was content to watch, eat and drink.

She did just that until the explosive sound of glass shattering drew her attention. Looking at the balcony to the second floor, she saw Arthur up above, talking with his friend and dropping a beer bottle. They were damn lucky no one was under there.

Collette watched as they talked for a bit. Then she watched as his friend, Lenny, she had heard Arthur scream, wander away to the floor level and get into a disagreement. His best course of defense was...standing on the bar, ugh, she’d never eat at the bar counter again. Arthur however, seemed to still be talking as if the man was still next to him.

“Wah? Lenny!” Ah, and now he realized his friend was gone.

Collette watched as a mounting tension seemed to build between Arthur and the people that had been hassling Lenny. “Get lost, buddy.” Somehow in the next instance she saw the drunkest Rockettes show in the world. After a few minutes of high kicks they all fell apart giggling and laughing like children. Arthur slammed three more shots of what looked to be vodka before turning and seeing her. That didn’t sit well with her, especially when he staggered his way over to her. _Aw, crap_.

He fell forward, sort of catching himself on her table. “It-it’s yooou, that, I know you.” He had to have been beyond drunk, good lord he was off his rocker. “Jus’ thought I’d tell ya, I,” he struggled a bit, trying to string his words together. “I’m real sorry bout the,” he stopped again, gesturing at her cheek. “I don’ hit women, and I’s real sorry.” Tom was going to scar from how hard this man had hit him, hell her cheek was still sore.

“I’m sure, why don’t you go back to your friend before you lose him...again.”

“No, no, I’m-”

“Arthur? Heeey, Arthur.” _Damnit, now the other one’s coming._ “This-this yer old lady?”

“Nawww,” Arthur said, giving Lenny all his wavering attention.

From seemingly nowhere, Lenny pulled out two bottles of beer, one for him and the other for the wobbly cowboy. “Oh, huh, why ain’t you never married?”

“No one would have me.”Arthur said with a joking sort of sadness. Slowly, Arthur slipped into a chair at her table, no amount of protest seemed to penetrate his drunken mind. He seemed to talk nonsense even as Lenny drifted away. The stupid irresponsible bartender came by with another shot that Arthur all but inhaled.

“Your friend’s gone, shouldn’t you go find him?” She said testily, she just wanted one friggin night.

The blonde man looked around him, just now realizing once again that he’s lost his Lenny. “Lenny?” He called before lowering his head and playing with his cup. “Figures, ain’t nobody wanna be with me.” Oh, no, he’s a sad drunk. What happened to the canning canning guy? Bring him back. “Ahh, you ugly bastard,” he moped, looking at his reflection in the large thimble-like cup. “You’re gettin’ old, old and...kinda sad. No wonder they all leave you. You sour faced idiot, you ain’t foolin’ no one.”

Collette winced with every self deprecating insult the man dealt himself. The first little quip to his friend actually sounded a bit sarcastic, like a wiseass answer. This, this was rough, a bit too real sounding. “Uh, you okay there Arthur? Should I be holding your weapons?” She asked, not serious, but also a bit serious about taking his guns and knife. He’s the asshole who beat up Tom and punched her in the face, though he did just apologize for that, but right now he seemed almost too pathetic to really hold a grudge. Also suicidal. His head was resting on the table and he was just staring at his reflection unblinkingly. “Arthur?”

“S’cuse me Miss, gotta go take a leak.” He said before stumbling out the back of the saloon. Collette watched him go, speechless. Deciding now would be the best time to beat a hasty exit, Collette tried to wave down the also sloshed bartender.

“LENNY!” Came a resonating shout from the back door. Collette watched as Arthur stumbled up to every patron confusing them for his friend. Head in her hand, she sighed heavily. “Lenny, my boy!” Peeking through her fingers, she saw Arthur looking directly at her. In no way did she look like Lenny, not even a little.

“No,” she gave a gruff sigh, “C’mon let’s find your friend.” She grabbed the grown man by his collar and steered him to the little crevices and possible places his friend could have ended up. The guy was hard for her sober ass to find let alone Arthur’s drunk ass trying to find him. “Lenny!” She shouted in solidarity.

“Lenny...you...bastard!”

They had just moved back to the ground floor when they heard, “Arthur? What’re you doin’?”

Collette nearly breathed a sigh of relief, “Perfect, now why don’t you two go home?” Then without any word or warning, Arthur slapped Lenny across the face. It didn’t seem violent or all that painful, and it took only a moment before Lenny shrugged it off and responded in kind. Another moment and the two were surrounded by other drunks and slapping one another.

What was happening here? Then they were back at the bar, mugs being filled with what will hopefully be their last. She was content to just let them have their...fun. Walking over to the bar, she counted out the money to pay her tab. “Hey, barkeep!” She shouted to the too-drunk-to-really-be-tending-the-bar bartender when someone came up from behind her, pushing her into Arthur.

“Cheers.” She heard a man slur.

Drunk as he was, Arthur still grabbed at her, steadying her before confronting the man that had knocked into her. “Not you again,” he said right before he grabbed the man’s lapels and hauled him out of the saloon. She should leave, this was not her business...damn!

She yanked the bartender towards her and shoved her money into the man’s pockets. “Damnit!” She huffed as she jogged after the drunk criminals. “Ar-thur!” She shouted and the man released the guy he had been drowning. The man raced off while Arthur and Lenny stumbled around laughing. Deciding she’s had enough for a night, she made her way back to her horse parked beside the doctor’s shop. Can the night be over with Mr. Phelps? She prayed as she walked over to her horse and gently roused the beast from his sleep.

“You’ll never take me alive!” She heard someone shout. With wide perplexed eyes, Collette watched as Arthur burst from behind the the doctor’s office running towards the church. He tripped over the fence around the church and just seemed to lie there.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! Did you see a drunken fool run by this way?” The sheriff, of all people, asked as he rounded the corner.

Not even casting a glance at Arthur to see if he was rising, she pointed past the churchyard. “Yes sir, he ran through the yard and into the woods behind the church.” They all ran off in pursuit, while a few other cops dragged his struggling friend into the jailhouse.

Once the coast was clear, she walked over to the snoring form covered in dirt and mud. This was the man she had hated so much? This moron, who, if left alone would probably drown in this perpetually muddy ground. “Come on dummy, let’s get you a bed to sleep this off.”

He didn’t even budge. With an impatient growl, she reared her foot back and... “Ah!” He awoke, sputtering and grunting. She grabbed at his flailing arm and helped haul the man to his feet as best she could.

They staggered over to the inn, “I’m going to need a room, one bed and a bucket, please Jack.”

“Uh, Ms. Cole?”

“Whatever this looks like I assure you it isn’t, please Jack.” She nearly begged.

“Sure, sure, I’ve got a room just down the hall, last door on the right.” Jack, the innkeeper, said.

“Thank you, the quicker I can end this bizarre night the better.” Collette said tossing more than what was necessary on the counter. Jack was a good man, he didn’t want any trouble and didn’t pry more than what was polite.

“Arthur move your damn legs man!” She hissed at the man draped around her shoulders. He nuzzled his face into her neck and just mumbled nonsense. Rolling her eyes, she steadied herself enough to free a hand so that she could flick him on the nose. With a snort he stood up straighter, she gave a coaxing tug and he shuffled after her down the hall.

Making it to the room and somehow opening the door, she tossed the deadweight onto the bed, positioning him so that he wouldn’t choke on his vomit when he vomitted, it was definitely going to happen.

After Jack came by with the bucket, which she took and placed right by the bed, she plopped herself into one of the chairs conveniently placed in the room. Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes, ready to fall asleep. Arthur gave a very watery sounding burp and made a disgusted noise. It reminded her of a song, if only she could remember the words... _oh yea,_ “But I’m spinning, my head cannot stand effects from when the night began, and I screw my life up evermore as I puke my lungs out on the floor...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait! There’s more, I’ll be honest the next chapter I really phoned it in. Sorry, I needed to cheat a bit to whip out another chapter.


	10. Stupid Fool Moron Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just chugging along...In case we forgot, the last chapter ended in the past so now we’re picking back up where we left off before the flashback thing I kind of did. Also yes, I heavily leaned on the mission dialogue, but I tried to add extra things, get inside Arthur’s head a little. Hope it was successful.

Arthur had awoken in the afternoon, after the drunken night that would not be spoken of ever again, to a letter on his desk. At first he had thought he must have still been drunk or something once he recognized the handwriting. It was Mary. She said she wanted to meet with him.

It took him a few days of wrestling with himself, he knew he wanted to go and that was the problem. He had reread the letter a few times before deciding to make his way to Chadwick Farm. This is going to be a disaster.

Arthur pulled up to the white homestead, feeling hopeful, like the most hopeful foolish idiotic moron that ever was. He brushed his shirt and ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair, clearing his throat he gave a knock on the door. He saw the gun before he saw the woman and immediately his hands went up in a signal for peace. Fighting was the last thing on his mind right now. He calmly and politely asked if Mar-Mrs. Linton was in. He could hear the woman callout for Mary and before he knew it there she stood, Mary. He was the biggest fool.

“Hello Arhur,” her voice alone was enough to stir up all sorts of feelings he didn’t know what to do with.

She closed the door behind her and it felt like they were alone, just him, her and the few sheep behind them. “I, erm...”

“I heard you and your friends was around, I…”

“Okay.” Needing to bring himself back from whatever little fantasy he could already feel spinning he asked, “Where’s what’s his name?”

“Died.”

On reflex he answered, “Well, I’m sorry ta hear that.”

“Yeah, me too. Happened a while ago. Pneumonia.”

“Bad business.” It was a small comfort knowing she was at a loss for words same as him.

“So, uh...well, y-y-you’ve been...” The feelings felt like they were choking him. The man’s death and what it could imply, what it could mean since she’s called upon him. Clearing his throat he tried again, “You’ve been made a widow and...you come here lookin’ fer me, is that it?” He asked it insulted, but maybe just a foolish stupid bit hopeful.

“No, it ain’t like that, Arthur.”

“Oh, okay...” He said, the damned disappointment hard to miss. He swung around a bit, unable to keep looking at her. From just the corner of his eye he thought he saw something familiar.

“I,” she started before sighing. “My family...” He could hear her getting choked up, it was stirring things in him. He knew she was feeling feelings just like he was, but somehow it always seemed like he was feeling the most. “I need your help.”

Now, now it all made sense. She needed his help! Of course! She needed his help! Why else would she call on him, and it’s not her that needs help, it’s her family. “You mean the family that always looked down on me. You want me ta help them?” He said slowly.

With a desperate step towards him Mary said, “It’s my brother, Jamie.”

Arthur couldn’t help his scoff. It was directed at Mary, it was to himself. He was such a fool. He looked out towards the sheep, they were easier to look at in a situation like this. The familiar thing he thought he thought he saw seemed to have vanished, must’ve been his fool mind playing tricks on him. “I always liked Jamie...at least compared to the rest of ‘em.”

He was hyper aware as Mary came and stood beside him, her hand so near his...and yet. “He’s broken daddy’s heart.”

The words were enough to get a bittersweet huff of a laugh, “Daddy has a heart?”

She was quick, turning to look at him with pleading eyes he didn’t want to meet. “Don’t make me beg you, Arthur.”

“My money, my life, me...” He said, turning on her with his own pathetic face that she refused to look at. “I wasn’t good enough.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned to him fully, “We need your help real bad. Little Jamie’s joined...the Chelonians...that strange religious order.”

“Good for him,” Arthur said with a shrug, he didn’t know much about the Chelonian...thing, but Jamie ought to be old enough by now to be making his own decisions.

“They’re quite mad, Arthur. They’ll kill him. You’re the only person he’d listen to.”

Feeling fed up at being misled, at feeling used, he looked her in the eye. “So, I’m too rough to marry into yer family, but it’s okay to ask me to help in saving yer family.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking down. Sometimes he really wondered how much he had meant to her. Doing this, asking him to do this, knowing how he felt-feels even now after all this

is goddamn time. “I understand if you don’t wanna help me, but...but I think of you often.”

Then he felt it, as soon as she said it, he felt it, that god forsaken tug at his heart. Even as he tried to deny it, tried to not let her know how well she still played him. “A long time ago now.”

“I’m beggin’ ya, Arthur.”

“I say let Jamie live Jamie’s life, and not the...nightmare that his daddy dreamed up for him.”

“Jamie’s so innocent, Arthur.” He walked away from her then, wishing he could just leave and get some fresh air. His head was all muddled in the way only Mary could do. “Please, Arthur. Will you help me?”

He sighed heavily, he knew, he just knew the moment she had asked he’d say yes. Just like when she had sent that letter asking for him and he had raced down like a fool, getting bathed and shaved like a fool. So he agreed, “Where is he?” Because he’s a fool.

“Somewhere out near Carmody Dell, I think. The rancher there said he’d seen him around the Cumberland Forest area.” She said anxiously. “I just want him back, Arthur. If you find him, bring him to me at the station.”

He began to walk away, unable to look at her anymore, too frustrated, too overwhelmed with feelings. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll owe you.”

“You already owe me.” He said over his shoulder mounting his horse. As he prepared to ride out for the Cumberland Forest he saw wild hair and a mouth hung open in shock.

“The hell was that!” The familiar woman shouted pointing over to the house where Mary had disappeared into.

Rather than answering her loaded question he instead shouted back, “You followin’ me or somethin’? Why are you up here?”

“For the sheep.” She said as if that would explain everything.

“The sheep?” He said slowly.

She rolls her eyes, “You saw the Downes’ ranch, it’s just that a ranch, and they don’t have any animals, plus sheep are cool.”

“Cool...you got a bunch of sheep cause they’re cool.” He said slowly, not even sure he was understanding her right.

“And cause the Downes need animals.” She said going over to the fence. “Hello Spock,” she said in a gentle tone he had never heard.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “Spock? What sorta name is Spock? Why are you talkin’ to that sheep anyway? You crazy?”

“Tch, sheep are actually rather smart, see that’s Spock over there,” she said gesturing to the sheep walking over to them, it’s tail wagging a bit as it came. “Sheep can recognize faces and distinguish emotions. Don’t look at me like that,” she said defensively as she gave the the animal a pat. “I had a friend that was studying animal science in college.”

Arthur scratched his beard, hardly noticing how easily they were talking with one another. “Is that what they’re teachin’ you in college? How smart sheep are?”

She gave him an unamused look, “Yea, among other things. Now, enough about my sheep, I’m more interested in what that was. So?”

He was feeling defensive now, if she had really seen that whole mess, then he’d rather just get the hell outta here than even try to explain away why he was acting like such a fool. “Ain’t none of yer business.” She pursed her lips, and just continued looking up at him. “It was nothin’.” He insisted, looking away from her steely eyes.

Then out of nowhere Cole sighed, “I just need to understand. What are you?”

“What?”

“You beat the shit out of a sick man, you threaten him, you threaten his family, and I’m pretty sure you still don’t give a shit, and yet, and yet! You’re over here acting like a lovesick moron with a Romeo complex! I almost felt bad for you! What. Are. You!” She shouted up at him.

“I don’t think I get yer meanin’.” Arthur said, at a loss.

Arthur watched as the woman put both her hands on her head, “You’re like the most complicated simpleton that’s ever existed. You’re a singleminded asshole one minute, the most depressing person another minute and now you’re hopelessly in love with some old flame.”

“What are you goin’ on about?”

“And now you’re back to being an idiot! Just pick a thing and stick with it, you’re confusing the hell out of me.” She said, as if she wasn’t doing the very same to him. She sigh again, “Anyway I need to go, have fun with those Chelonian-Scientology people.” She then turned to the sheep she had been petting. “Let’s go Spock, we need to get the rest of the Enterprise to the ranch.” The woman said to the sheep as she opened the gate to ket the herd out. She tossed a wave behind her at him before leading the flock off the property. No horse or sheep dog to be seen.

Unbidden, Arthur found his hand rising in a wave even if Cole couldn’t see it. It was a sort of comfort that she didn’t seem to know what to make of him, because he sure as hell didn’t know what to make of her. None of that mattered now though, he needed to go find Jamie now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll see what happens next week! Thank you very much for all the kind words and kudos, really needed that right now. Do overlook errors for these two chapters, didn’t get the chance to do my usual proofreading. Sorry!


	11. Can’t You Just Fish for Fish?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it’s been a hot second, but summer classes have been paid for, senior project presentation has been given and a weight has been a little lifted. Here’s to a more regular update schedule, hopefully.

Collette was making her way to the saloon in Valentine, Edith had all but pushed her out, insisting she was starting to look worse than Tom. Collette conceded after being pushed in front of a mirror because she just looked aweful. To be fair to herself, she’s had a lot of stuff on her plate.

Such as the Enterprise herd, which was thriving. Their wool was selling faster than they could sheer it, and they, as in Archie and the new guy because she should not be trusted with sheers...or any sort of animal care beyond loving them. She did sheer Spock though, he was the first sheep to be sheered to set an example for the other sheep, and he took it like a champ. The rest of the sheep, Archie and new guy, and they could not sheer fast enough.

Something had apparently happened over in Strawberry and the mountainous town had lost a few of it’s herders, along with most of the townspeople in general, apparently there was some crazy prison break. However, prison break or no, people needed fur and wool for clothes, especially in the mountains during a particularly frigid spring. Capitalizing on a tragedy wasn’t such a great feeling, but there was a need and if she didn’t fill it someone else would, so it may as well be her. Also, she gave them a discount on the wool, she’s not heartless.

Oh, and the new guy, more like new kid, she had come across him on one of her trips to Strawberry. He had just lost both his parents, both parents, and he had no money to get to any relatives. When she heard that she couldn’t help but take pity on the boy, and his dog. In exchange for giving him a place to stay he did most of the herding. He even trained his little pooch to be a rather formidable sheepdog.

It was a good boost to income for the Downes and she had hopes of getting chickens and cows for a more steady stream of money. Milk and eggs are more readily available as opposed to living by a sheep’s hair growth, and sheep were not made for milking. That had been quite a discovery, never let it be said that she was a farmer by any stretch of the word. Who could’ve known goats and sheep were so different?

Plus, she acquired some pigs from a farm after the owner passed away. Also, just for fun she bought the land and shack the farm had been on. The land had been dirt cheap and it was the perfect kind of secluded. Since getting it she had been overseeing construction on additions to the house. Due to the whole shack situation it was more a ground up project than an upgrade. However, she was no architect and she was struggling to put it all together. She’d get there, slowly but surely.

Ugh, she should’ve studied business and agricultural science in school, she thought scraping her nails on her scalp. That wasn’t true, she could never do it. Good lord did she hate excel and the outdoors in general. In a moments like this however, trying to budget and create a small business for the Downes to manage was a bitch. So that extra knowledge would’ve been a nice help.

Archie was quite helpful though, educated to the best of Edith’s determined abilities, which were pretty good. He could read, write and he had decent enough math skills. She left him with the bulk of the business, popping in to help here and there. She was still trying to save Tom after all, and she was going to have to leave eventually.

Collette really did not want to leave the Downes reliant on her after Tom...after however this ends. Stopping that thought short, it was a dangerous train of thought that could only lead to sadness.

She was trying her damnedest for Tom, but he was just so weakened. Until she could grow enough of the other antibiotic she was just prolonging his existence. She was close though, Collette could practically taste it. She was so fucking close, then again what she could be tasting was the peroxide. It’s very fragrant, so strong in fact a person could taste it.

It was why she decided to head out to the saloon today for a nice meal. Sure, the completely haggard sight of her was shocking, but the real shock had come when she coughed up some blood. After a frazzled culture test and then two more with a clearer head, she determined it had to be from inhaling the peroxide fumes. The cultures had grown bacteria, that’ll happen no matter what with a throat swab, but no tuberculosis bacterium to be found. _Woo_.

She hunched over the bar, her shoulders worn from the constant tension she had careening over her microscope. She drank the lukewarm beer and tried her best to unwind.

“Things not going well with Tom?” _Damnit_.

Collette turned her head so that her chin rested on the nasty bar counter. She still remembered Arthur’s friend dancing all over it. “Yes and no.” She answered Greg, the nice enough bartender.

“Shame, he’s a good man, too good at times.” Collette gave him a strained smile in agreement. Yes, she was well aware the world will get a little bleaker without the saintly man in this time of America gone wild.

“Just got confirmation from the main office to try and make Van der Linde’s man an offer. If he’s smart he’ll take it and turn his boss in.” Collette overheard some man from behind her say. The literal polar opposite to Tom, Mr. Van der Linde. She’d met that man enough times for the rest of her life. First impression, he blows some girl’s brains out. Second impression, he entrusts her to touchy feely Hulk Hogan after a traumatic kidnapping. Third impression, hasn’t happened yet, but the moment he opened his mouth for that rousing speech in Colter all she could think was fuck him. People have that instinct to sense psychopaths, right? Cause her psycho sense was tripped, also her hate-people-without-a-lot-of-justifiable-proof sense. “Arthur Morgan’s the name, he’ll probably be round their base near the river.”

Collette sat a few seconds, pumping her foot in anxious thought before paying her tab and strutting out of the saloon. Should she, or shouldn’t she, she could leave right now, head straight back to the ranch. She could do that. As the door swung shut, she began hastily making her way to Bugs. Well used to her incompetence, Bugs just held still while she ran, lunged and hefted herself into the seat. Grabbing the reigns, she squeezed her thighs, spurring the horse into motion.

Bugs followed the road with minimal input from her. Truly the horse was the most mysterious of nature’s creatures. Honestly, she doesn’t even know why she’s holding the reigns, it’s not like she knew what to do with them. Does she yank on them? Snap them? Tug on them? How does a person tug on the reigns to tell a horse to go left? Do horses listen to the noises more than the reign tugging? That opened a whole new can of worms, what noises meant what?

Lost in her thoughts on how horses work, she barely noticed Bugs leave Valentine and making the once common trip to the river where she used to meet Jack. She was here now, it wasn’t should she or shouldn’t she, now it was...she looked over to the shore and saw a familiar blonde man stumbling through a conversation with a small familiar boy. Ah screw it, she’s going.

She didn’t really have a plan when she had ridden out, Arthur could damn well take care of himself, but if the Pinkertons found their camp and attacked...did they know the gang had a kid in the mix? Did they care? Thinking back to her own capture she was liable to assume no, not really.

Collette heard the steady beat of hooves and all but tripped off her horse, pushing at it to disappear. Luckily the creature realized what she wanted and trotted off...hopefully not too too far. _Friggin love that horse_.

Picking up her skirts, what she wouldn’t give to just have a skirt, as in singular, and with a slit. She jogged over to the pair. “Hey!” She shouted to the big gunslinger. He barely had time to react before she pushed him into the water. “Hide,” she commanded to the man sternly. “Jack, bud, come over here.” She said, equally as stern, mindful not to sound scared.

“Cole...” The kid said, carefully approaching her. The fear must’ve been leaking through. Seeing the bowler hats closing in, she grabbed the kid’s shoulder none-too-gently and yanked him behind her. With her head held high, she gave the incoming agents a hard stare.

Rolling some of the tension out of her shoulders, she cleared her throat. “State your business, I want no trouble here, there’s a child present.” She couldn’t seem like she was expecting them, but with the general wiliness of this place, people shot others just for standing on their lawn for too long. Her reaction to the men shouldn’t seem too strange.

The men put their hands up as a sign of peace and Collette did her best to look visibly relieved at the gesture. “Afternoon there ma’am,” one of the men greeted. “We’re with the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, my name’s Andrew Milton, and this here’s my partner, Mr. Ross.”

She gave them an assessing look, like she was trying to make sense of them. “Uh-huh, and what can I do for you Mr. Milton?”

“We have information that there’s a gang nearby, you wouldn’t happen to have noticed anything odd near here, would you Miss...?”

He squinted his eyes at her, sizing her up just as she was him. Rather than trying to invent another new name she addressed his first question. “Odd? If you’re looking for odd Mr. Milton you’re in the wrong place. Head to Valentine, I think I saw somethin’ that would qualify as odd behind the Doctor’s office. Some strange dealin’s happenin’ back there.”

“Thank you ma’am, I’ll be sure to look into it. You’ve noticed nothing in this area though?” Milton asked insistent, he had to know that their camp was in this area that’s why he was not letting up.

“I try and make it a habit not to go too far outside the town, some real strange folk are out here. Just wanted a day out with my boy here.” She said, sounding disappointed. “Thank you for the warnin’ Agent Milton, I guess I’ll be headin’ back into town soon.”

“Have a good day, ma’am.” Milton said with a tip of his hideous hat.

“And you, sirs,” she said, impatient for them to get the hell away from her. Once it felt safe, she unhooked her nails from Jack’s shoulder. The boy was a bit shaken, but it could have been much worse. That was the Pinkertons with their nice faces on, she could only imagine what they’d be like if it had been Arthur they were talking to. “It’s alright now, bud. Just some real bad men in real ugly hats.” She whispered to Jack, awkwardly patting his head.

“Why’d you do that?”

She turned to face the soaked man, “For Jack,” she said, knowing it would be enough of an explanation. “You all seem to think you’re untouchable,” she said, thinking back to the amount of things they had stirred up in Valentine. “But you’re being hunted now and none of you are safe. _None of you._ ” She glanced down at the boy before continuing, “You and your band of criminals are going to want to leave wherever you’re hiding out.”

He started to advance on her, “Did you-”

Not intimidated in the least, she met him head on, nose to sternum with the intimidating man, “If you even try to insinuate I brought them here you better clench your thighs together now.” She said completely serious. “I heard them talking in the saloon where you and Lenny got hammered...drunk.” She corrected at his confused look. “If your leader had an ounce of intelligence he’d pack the hell up and get outta here. It’s not safe.”

Arthur nodded, still tense, but with gentle hands he picked up the flower garland Jack had been making and handed it to the boy. “Listen, I don’t really get why you did whatchu did, but thank you.”

“Yea, you better be thanking me. Those Pinkertons are out to get me too, in case you forgot.” She reminded him, though the fact that he said thanks at all was a bit of a surprise. Just a bit, after seeing his vulnerable clumsy self trying to talk to the lady at the sheep farm and the sad sack of a drunk he was, she’d let go of all expectations she had for this violent man.

Watching him trying to talk with that woman, him attempting to piece together sentences that practically broadcasted the complicated past the two had, it was just bizarre. He was a trigger happy gunslinger unafraid to use his fists and also a lovesick fool that was still holding onto his old flame even after getting burned by her. She married some other guy from what she could tell from eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“Why are they after you?” He asked, snapping her from her thoughts.

She shrugged, not sure how to explain it and not really wanting to divulge too much. “I’m a bit smart. I made a few improvements for Cornwall’s business. When I didn’t like the projects he started sending me I refused them...He is not a man that likes to lose money. I suggest you tell that to your leader. I’ve been running for years and he hasn’t stopped.” _May never stop_. She shivered at the very thought.

“Tha’s all? Improved some stuff? What’s that even mean?” Arthur asked, scratching at his beard.

She gave him an exasperated look, “I did a really good job making his machines better.” She turned away then and began to walk away from the shore. “And I never want to go back,” she whispered quietly, thinking of the many scars she hadn’t had until she came here, until she told Cornwall no. Now wasn’t the time to go down memory lane, “I suggest you listen to me cowboy!” She shouted over her shoulders. “For the kid’s sake at any rate!”

She walked away from the two towards the main road. Now, where was her damn horse? “Bugs! Bugs Bunny!” She shouted. _Damn_ , she’s going to have to hunt for carrots.

 

                                                                             A Few Days Later

 

Collette had just left the general store, their fresh produce consistently leaving much to be desired. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice, a horrifyingly familiar voice. “It has been some time Ms. Renata.” God, it’s been years since she’s heard her last name.

She didn’t even bother to look at the man before she was sprinting away. She was smart, she was independent, she was capable, but she wasn’t strong, not in the sense she needed to be in this moment. “Oof!” She grunted as she was swiftly wrestled to the floor. Biting, shrieking and clawing as she went down. “I can’t say I expected to see you in this mud heap, but what timing you have. I lost quite a bit of business from a train robbery and could use that new formula for dynamite.”

She spat out the dirt that had been pushed into her mouth. Collette feared this man, he terrified her in ways she never knew possible, but she refused to cower before him. Being afraid and acting afraid were two different things. “Really? It’s been how many years Leviticus? All your money and you still haven’t figured it out? But it’s so easy.” She mocked.

“Mr. Tithe shut that harpy up,” he commanded. Her mouth was then promptly gagged. She could have rolled her eyes, _typical_. Surprisingly Cornwall rode off down the road, rather than staying behind to taunt her and ensure she actually made it back into his clutches. A few men stayed with her, binding her hands and feet in the usual fashion. What a world where there was a usual fashion for her to be tied up. She had her ring though, she could have these ropes off in a minute. However, with all the men around, it was not the time to escape. For now she had to let them hogtie her and manhandle her onto a horse, _lovely_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For real, though I’mma try hard. Pump out a few chapters in some succession and then slow down to a more normal schedule. Honestly I’d like to be out of chapter two in the game’s time by next week.


	12. We’re All Fools if We Live Long Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is part of a quote I quite liked. I’ve been reading Arthur’s journal with the app in my spare time to get a sense of his voice a little, and it really seems like Arthur had already lost his faith in Dutch at the start of the gang. So outwardly I’m trying to keep him loyal and have his inner voice be a little more cautious.

Just as he and Dutch looked one another in the eyes, Arthur unholstered his gun and began firing. The man holding John was the closest and easiest to aim properly at. After taking care of the immediate danger Arthur hustled to a nearby cart for cover with the rest of the gang. He heard poor Strauss release a cry of shock and pain. In the frenzy of movement to scrape together a plan Arthur was able to note the man was just grazed by the leg, it wasn’t great but in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t the worse. Dead would’ve been worse.

In all the confusion and Dutch shouting at him to shoot someone, he saw out of the corner of his eye two figures struggling together. One looked to be swinging their legs around at the person whose shoulder they were thrown over. He was about to turn away, this was no time to be getting distracted when he saw the person get dropped to the ground. They wriggled a bit, like a fish out of water before getting upright.

Now, that he could see them, something about the feller’s captive looked familiar. The person then swung around and kicked the man...right between the legs. On reflex he took aim at the man trying to grab at Cole and shot. Like a spooked deer he watched her head swing round and look him dead in the eye.

“Arthur! Maybe you should try shooting the men in front of us!” Turning his gun to begin shooting the Pinkertons lining the main road, Arthur gave little thought to what he’d just done. He didn’t know why he’d done it, he just did. He didn’t exactly have much time to think on it neither cause they were still being shot at, a lot.

When they finally reached the end of the road Dutch turned to him, “You make sure nobody’s following us. We’ll get back to camp...We’re gonna gather the troops, and get them to start packing up.”

“Sure, we can’t stick around much after this.” Arthur answered as Dutch whipped The Count’s reigns into a gallop.

Arthur stayed and shot a few rounds before whistling for his horse. “Alright, I better get outta here.” Looking around for the black workhorse, he was horrified to find it was nowhere to be seen. “Ah shit.” Running was his only option, but he could already hear the approach of lawmen on their own horses.

“Arthur! Over here, c’mon!” His head whipped over to where none other than Cole sat on the back of a horse.

“What in the-” Arthur said in surprise. Suddenly there was a gunshot that cut too close for comfort.

“Just shut up and get on the horse!” She said quickly, moving closer to the saddle horn, making enough room for him.

“How the hell’re you always where I am?” He shouted. He should’ve tossed her off the horse, it’d be harder to escape with the two of them, but instead he swung behind the woman and snapped the horse into a swift gallop. Whistling again for his horse, hoping it’d hear and follow him.

“I’m not following you! I’m having epically terrible luck!” Then she almost slipped from the saddle. “Woah!”

“Will you hang on!?” He shouted as he wove through a nearby forest, hunching his body over hers as more gunshots peppered the trees around them.

“If I friggin could, I would!” She yelled. “I was only able to get the ropes on my ankles off before all that fighting started, or rather, that you and your crew started.” She grumbled loudly, pressing back into him.

He rode until the bullets were getting less frequent before stopping all together, “We started? We ain’t start nothin’, Cornwall took some of our men hostage.” There was a bit of a rustle, Arthur looked up, his hand on his gun, to see his own horse trotting over.

It was good his horse had come, he’d need his camping supplies for tonight. Then he turned back Cole when she began talking, “Oh please, I was on that train up in Colter. You people started it and now Cornwall is going to finish it.” Arthur knew had he been able to’ve seen her face he would be seeing her eyes rolling.

Arthur sighed, he didn’t have anything more to say. After all she ain’t wrong, he knows she ain’t, but his need to defend Dutch and his decisions reared it’s head. He knew robbing the train had to have been a bad idea once Hosea tried to steer Dutch away from it. Hosea was always right, and at the time Dutch wasn’t quite himself. He was better now though, leaving them mountains had done a world of good for Dutch and now he was back at it. It was time they turned their luck around.

They rode a bit longer before coming to a stop again. Arthur dismounted first and was about to start setting up camp. There was no way they could head back to Valentine and it’d be a pain to go round the town lockdown. There’d be lawmen everywhere.

“Can I get a little help here?” Arthur heard Cole ask.

It was the first time he was able to get a good look at her after their escape. Mud and dirt clung to her like a second skin, whatever color her clothes had been before it was buried under a layer of brown. The only thing slightly clean was a band of cloth hung round her neck. His eyes went from her shoulders to her arms and stopped at her wrists where a rope constricted her hands. “How the hell this happen?” He asked, taking her hands as she offered them to him to cut the rope.

“Oh, just missed the feeling of being tied up,” she said with unmistakable sarcasm. She made a small noise of pain.

“Sorry,” he grunted, awkwardly trying to lighten his grip. His hands weren’t used to using a soft touch, weren’t really made for it neither.

“It’s fine.” He finished cutting the ropes and she gingerly flexed her stiff purple hands. “Thanks.” She said. “I told you Cornwall’s coming for me too. Well, when he came for you he saw me, so he came for me too.” Cole explained as she prodded the bloodied irritated skin around her hand. “Weren’t you about to make camp or something?” She asked.

His eyes immediately shifted from her wounded hands to the kit on his horse. “Yea, yea,” He said before putting a camp together. He placed his bedroll down first and saw Cole slump down onto it. Once he had everything set and a fire roaring, he sat across the fire from her. “You, uh, you gonna be alright?” This, this small talk, he ain’t ever been all too good with it.

“I’ll live,” she said before sighing. “Thanks by the way, I didn’t really have a plan after getting on my horse.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed. Arthur wasn’t much for talking, especially when he really wasn’t sure how to make heads or tails with the company he kept. He was usually able to keep things separate. Ain’t all that many people that knew he ran with a gang, well outside the gang itself and the government as of recently. This woman though, she knew what he did, seen him do it and instead of fear she gives him a look that somehow made him feel like a scolded boy.

He was used to fear, of people, specially women, shying away from him. He was a big man, rough and angry. For someone like Cole, small like she was, he’d’ve figured she’d be scared stiff of him. He’d punched her in the face for crying out loud, none too gently might he add. Instead she just turned round and, well, left him on his knees.

At the time he hadn’t given her too much thought, figured she was just some crazy lady with a death wish. Then he’d woken up to the worst hangover and sitting there like it was nothing that she kept the law off him. And then, she just appears out of nowhere and helps him and Jack with the Pinkertons. She just kept doing things for him and he could not understand why.

She seemed to be everywhere too, haunting him like some sort of specter. He just couldn’t seem to shake her loose, but he supposed she couldn’t shake him neither by the sound of it.

“D’you need anythin’?” He asked.

“Some Neosporin would be great.”

“I...ain’t too sure what that is,” he told her honestly, watching as she uselessly tried to wrap her wrists with some cloth. She did that a lot too, along with the glaring and the helping, saying things he don’t understand. From what Jack had been saying about what she’d been teaching him, she had to’ve been a scholar or something. After all she’d said it herself that it’s cause she was smart Cornwall wanted her. Though he wasn’t exactly the best judge, didn’t take much for someone to outsmart him. She released a frustrated sigh and figuring she must be in need of some help, he went over. “You needin’ a little help?” He felt a fool trying to play nursemaid, there was a reason the gang left that to Reverend or Mrs. Grimshaw.

“I know, no one knows what Neosporin is, and yea a little help is needed.” She said before holding her wrists out. After a few clumsy tries, Cole’s wrists were finally bandaged. Arthur couldn’t help but notice the old worn scars that piled around her wrists, they hinted at something but he wasn’t all too sure exactly what it was. She’d said Cornwall’d been after her for a while now, but this, this seemed a bit more than just chasing a person down. The gang was being chased, and her- “Thanks,” she said curtly, yanking her hands back and pulling down her muddy sleeves.

The silence settled again. He contemplated just turning in for the night, but it was a bit too early, even with the fiasco from earlier today. “How’s Jack? He doing alright?” She asked unexpectedly.

“Yea, he’s doing okay.” As okay as a kid could be in his situation. They was trying, they all was trying to give the kid as decent a life as they could. Hosea had been trying hard to teach him to read, though after the incident at the river, the boy had been less cooperative.

The look Cole had given him was one that said she was less than pleased. “That kid’s going to have some kind of problems.”

“Ay! We treat him right! Everyone at camp does their best, there ain’t nothing he don’t have.”

“Except friends,” she said plainly, unaffected by his shouting and anger. “Old people like us, as nice as we may be, don’t quite fill the gap other little rugrats around his age fill.”

As she spoke the anger he had felt seemed to seep away. “The boy likes me well enough,” he said with a sniff.

“Trust me, I hung out with the kid, it was Uncle Arthur this, Uncle Arthur that, it was one of the reasons I told him to tell you about Sean. As much as he likes you, as good as you are,” she paused before continuing, “to him at any rate, he needs kids his own age. It’s...a developmental thing.” She waved her hand, “I don’t know, all I know is that he needs to play with kids his own age, find his itty bitty clique of friends and learn how to socialize.”

“But he talks fine,” Arthur argued.

“I’m not a pediatric psychologist,” she said, as if he’d known what that meant. “What I can tell you is that you aren’t doing that kid any favors locking him away at camp, letting him see the same faces and things day in and day out. When does Jack get out and wreak a little pint sized havoc?”

Arthur thought on her words, the answer to her question settled a distinct feeling of guilt. “Er, not, all too often.”

“Look I get it, you’re on the run and you think you’re doing the best you can, but I want you to know it isn’t enough, won’t be enough. You really want that kid to grow up and stand a chance in this world? Then him and his mom need to get the hell away from you and your gang.”

Arthur’s hand squeezed into a tight fist, he knew it was the truth, deep down he knew it. He’d heard Hosea and Abbigail talking about this very thing, but leaving the gang, abandoning it. The gang was like his family and he’d die to protect them, and the thought that people would split off. He felt the stirrings of anger in him, it was a sad truth and rather than being sad it was just easier being mad. “You don’t know nothin’.”

“Tch, whatever helps you sleep at night, speaking of which, I think that’s what I’ll be doing, so if you don’t mind,” she said, gesturing for him to get off the sleep roll. He got off and just stood there stupidly while she got comfy. “But Arthur,” he turned to look at her, her one eye open to look at him. “If they do actually want to leave, Jack and his mom, I’ll help them. I’ve got enough money to pay off any bounties she may have and know enough people that could help a woman and a kid disappear.”

He wanted to outright reject her, tell her she was crazy for even suggesting it. It felt like an admission. Then he thought about Hosea telling Abbigail to have a plan, just in case...just in case...well, he didn’t want to finish that thought. “You’d do that?” He wanted to sound distrustful, but it just came off as earnest even to him.

“Please Arthur, I kicked you in the balls to stop you from beating my sick landlord and risked my ass heading back to Blackwater just to save Sean. Can I find it in my heart to help some innocent kid and his mother try and make a better life for themselves? Yea, in the far corner of my left ventricle.” She gave him that look that had him feeling like a fool.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” And he would, he didn’t want to, but he would. Somehow someway, he knew Cole wasn’t lying to him. She was odd-strange, like no woman he’d ever met, but he knew, she wouldn’t lie to him.

“Mhm, goodnight Arthur.” She said before settling into the bed roll. Soon enough she was asleep, in a way, seeing her sleeping made him feel less like a moron for thinking to trust her with Abbigail and Jack, along with all the other stuff he should’ve shot or scared her for knowing. With what she knew about the hideout alone she could’ve had them all locked up or hanged by now. She could’ve had him swinging a while back.

They was building up some sort of trust, and until this moment he thought he was the only one dumb enough to let it happen. However, looking at Cole’s sleeping form, he figured as stupid as he was for starting to trust this woman she was being just as stupid trusting him, and that meant something. Trust had always meant something to him.

Smirking humorlessly to himself he reached into his satchel and pulled out his journal, tending the flames to stay bright enough for him to pen a few of his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re so close to the end of chapter two, so close. I’m always a little self conscious trying to write Arthur. Thanks again for the kudos and kind words! See you soon with another update.


	13. Roughin’ It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, maybe we missed the mark of getting out of chapter two by this week. However, I’ve got the pouring oil questline that I think I’d like to use to get a bit of Sean back in. I just don’t like how he’s dropped off the story, so that’s my plan. We’re getting there...slowly but surely.

There was something in Collette so viscerally against her liking Arthur Morgan. Well, it wasn’t really a something, more like the vivid memory of Tom being held in his rough hands getting the shit knocked out of him, but there was also a something that, once again, wasn’t really a random something, that was warming up to the man. When he wasn’t beating the shit out of terminally ill men he was pretty benign and okay even.

Collette woke up to with the most nasty case of bedhead she’s ever had in her thirty plus years of life. “Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing at her eyes. She quickly hissed as she moved her raw wrists too quick.

“You okay?” Collette turned to Arthur who was crouched by the fire. He was cooking a very fresh looking slab of meat. He was quite possibly the best person she could have escaped with. He knew how to ride a horse, he was actually prepared to camp at a moment’s notice andknew how to start a fire. All things she did not know how to do, but probably should...

Snapping back to the present she looked at the man across from her, “I’m fine, a little sore.” She nodded her head towards the little grill grate, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Some rabbit with a bit of oregano.” He said gruffly, using his knife to hold out a hunk to her.

Not really a fan of finger food but not about to be a priss, she took the proffered meat. “Fancy.” It was disgusting. She hated oregano. It was a hatred passed down through the family line back to great grandma Eunice on her mother’s side. Also she hated gamey meat with a passion, that was more just a her thing with less of a family history. Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to turn her nose up at it. She wasn’t expecting any Michelin stars so she ate it with no complaint, but man did it leave a lot to be desired. God help her she’d even settle for some A1 sauce.

“Here,” she looked back to Arthur who held out a metal cup to her. She had just seen him pour some coffee and take a sip.

She took it with little thought, “Thanks.” It was the purest most blackest of black coffee. It was almost like the first time she took a shot of vodka, her whole body just screamed, I object! “Woah there man, don’t you put sugar or cream in this? Good Lord, damn!” She heard him stifle a laugh.

“Sorry bout that, lemme jus’ pull out a jug of cream from my satchel,” he said dryly.

She grumbled at him a bit. “I guess there’s a reason why I really don’t camp.”

“You from a city or somethin’?”

She heaved a weary sigh, “Yea in a way, I mean it’s not that I don’t like camping. Well I mean sleeping in mud and grossness last night wasn’t so enjoyable, but everything else so far seems pretty okay.” She said looking at the forest around her. This wasn’t so bad for the first time around. Then again Arthur did all the hard stuff while she just watched.

“You all set to head out?” Arthur asked, his voice a little more gravelly than normal.

“Yea, uh, what should I do with the rest of the coffee?” She asked holding out the metal cup to him.

He sniffed, “Just toss it,” he said, taking the mug and dumping out the contents. He then gave it a shake before putting it into his satchel. Collette watched and said a silent prayer that he cleans that thing better than just giving it a few shakes.

Collette joined him by his black huffing beast of a horse, “A little help.”

“You riding with me? You ain’t gonna take yer own horse?” He asked while easily lifting her up into the saddle.

“Just because I have a horse, doesn’t mean I can ride it well.” She said holding onto the knob of the saddle as Arthur swung himself on behind her. “You really don’t know how lucky you are that I got to you and Jack before those other guys.”

He urged his horse forward, while making a sort of clicking noise that prompted Bugs to follow. He kept them at a manageable trot, nothing that had her slipping off the saddle like last night. “How have you survived without knowin’ how ta ride? I thought everyone knew how.”

“Hm, must’ve missed the memo,” she said, leaning forward, enjoying being on a horse with someone that actually knew how to do it. There were no unexpected turns to graze or random accelerations like with Bugs. Arthur was well in control of his horse, hell he was even in control of her horse. They were on a main road now, well worn by carriages and travelers.

“Please...someone show kindness...on a man with no sight,” Collette jerked up in the saddle, trying to find the owner of the voice. She saw a man standing just off the road, hunched, standing bowlegged. Arthur slowed his horse as the man continued to plead, “Help a blind man.”

With little hesitation Arthur swung off his horse and reached into his saddlebags, “Okay, here you are.” He said before she heard the tink of money drop into the man’s cup.

Collette leaned in closer, she remembered the “blind” beggar in Saint Denis, however this man was definitely legitimately blind. The cloudiness of his eyes were telltale of some sort of problem, cataracts? Maybe a corneal disease.

“You’re whole life, sir, you have followed the wrong star.”

Collette gave the man a hard look, that is a bizarre thing to say out of nowhere. She looked to Arthur, expecting the same, if not, an even more confused reaction, instead he only nodded, “Okay, friend.” He then got back on the horse and continued to ride.

Collette leaned to the side, barely noticing Arthur’s arm stiffening to keep her from falling. The old man still stood there on the road, shaking his little cup. “What the hell was that?”

Arthur shrugged, “Jus’ some fella I’ve seen a few times now, gotta say fer a blind fella he gets around.”

“You donate to him often?”

“It’s just a dollar, I got at least that ta spare.” Collette could strangle this man, she really could. He beats the sick, runs with a gang and donates to the blind.

“Of course, and does he always have weird lines like that to spare?” She asked, thinking about what he said. An odd little sentence and yet it sat heavy in her head.

She heard him spit off to the side and fought the shiver of revulsion, America was apparently built on blood, sweat, tears and spit. “Usually,” he sniffed, “mostly. He, uh, said he could see the future, or somethin’. They’re interestin’ enough to listen to, I guess.”

“Such as?”

He took a moment to think, “One time he’d said somethin’ bout what’s killin’ me helping me ta see?” He laughed a bit, “He’s harmless enough and good fer a laugh.”

She hummed thoughtfully and the weird just gets weirder. “Are we almost there?” She was feeling anxious having left her cultures unattended for so long, also Tom, plus Edith was probably wrought with her level headed sort of worry. She really just needed to get back.

“Nearly, you ought ta be careful though, after a stunt like that the town’ll be on high alert.” Arthur advised.

“If you actually took your own advice you wouldn’t be in this mess at all.” She snarked at him.

“It ain’t me makin’ the decisions.” He answered stiffly.

Doesn’t she know it, she’d seen him again, Mr. Dutch Van Der Linde. “Still I told you back at the river you guy’s should’ve cleared out. You still at horseshoe overlook then?”

Arthur made a gruff noise, a bit disgruntled before saying, “Yea.” She waited and after a few beats was rewarded with more incite into Dutch’s stupidity. “I tried tellin’ the others, but Dutch says that they was tryin’ ta scare us into doin’ something stupid.”

“Do you think they was-were trying to scare you?” She could see the sense, scare someone and they make a bad decision, it was a classic tactic, but the river thing wasn’t the Pinkertons trying to scare the gang. What they had done, almost done, that was more like a probe. Just two guys? No, that wasn’t an attack, it was barely a threat. Not to a guy like Arthur, and they had to have known that.

“Well you heard ‘em talkin’ more than me. D’you think that’s what it was?”

She thought for a moment, it’s not like she had given it much thought since it was over and done with. However, now thinking back on it, “No, they were going to make you an offer. They said, your freedom for your leader.” Collette heard Arthur scoff, it was a very telling reaction. “Think about it though Arthur-”

“I ain’t no traitor.” He snarled, his grip on the reigns turning his knuckles white.

That was rather telling too, he looked at it like betrayal taking their deal. He makes a snap decision with no thought to, well, thought, to tactics. Had she been in his position, she’d take the trade. A person generally has more flexibility when they aren’t wanted. She’d get herself safe and then think of a way to save the others, if there were any others that she liked. Hogan and Dutch could rot. _Wonder if they’d make Hogan lose his stache in jail_?

“You’re such a nitwit,” she rolled her eyes, “that’s not what I’m talking about. Think about it,” she said thoughtfully. Collette leant forward in the saddle, her elbows balanced on the knob her hands laced and supporting her head. “They know Dutch.”

“Tch, you’re crazy.” He said with a laugh.

“No, I don’t think I am.” They knew Dutch, they knew how he thought. If psychological profiles existed they certainly had one for him. “How much organization do you think it took for that ambush yesterday? That was some man power, missives, telegraphs, letters all sent out to organize what we just saw.”

“Yea, probably.” He agreed.

“And how long ago was that almost meeting at the river?” She prodded. _What’s the point of a brain if you don’t friggin’ use it?_

“Three days...wait...” And there it was dawning on him.

“Three days isn’t enough to put that whole show together. They knew, and were waiting.” She said, spelling it out for him. “Had that meeting happened, had they thought they’d ‘scared you into doing something stupid’ like leaving. Then why were they waiting for you, with Leviticus fucking Cornwall himself, so sure you’d show up?” Her riding companion was silent. She left it at that, if anything the man needed a lesson in thinking for himself. “Stop here, I don’t think the Downes will really want to see you.” She said, more a reminder to herself than him. She was trying to help an unrepentant criminal see sense. An unrepentant criminal that has self esteem issues and donates to the blind...ugh!

He did as she asked, then helped her off the horse without a word. Just before she turned and walked away, a hand grabbed her shoulder causing her to look back. “I don’t-do you...” It was almost painful watching the man struggle for words before clenching his brows with resolve. “Dutch has gotten us outta worse situations.”

She looked him right in the face, deadly serious. “Then I hope for Jack-” she laughed to mockingly to herself, at herself, “and, hell, even your sake that you’re right.” Rather than shaking off his hand she dug her nails into it, holding it and his attention. “Because this isn’t the time for that unthinking loyalty you seem to do so well Arthur, really look at the man leading you,” she said tightening her grip on him. “I don’t know him like you do, but-”

“No, you don’t.” He said with a tone of finality.

She squeezes his hand harder, really let her blunt nails bite into him before jerking out of his grip. “Good luck Arthur, I really hope you don’t need it.” She said striding away from him. He mumbled something too quiet for her to hear, and she was also just too annoyed to listen. She wondered if she should reiterate her point, to just remind him she’d be willing to take Jack, but that seemed pointless. Not because he was too angry at her to do it, but because she trusted that he knew the offer still stood, and will remain standing.

Now, she had a long walk to get to the ranch. _Really wish I had my watch_ , “Start channeling, whatever will remains, discern what’s fiction and what is true...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not get to proofread this as much as I’d like, but I’ve got a concert that I’m going to and I want to get this up today. Bear with the pain and I will read through it tomorrow and do error checking. Not ideal, but here. Anyway, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I’m so glad people are enjoying this!

**Author's Note:**

> This is very awkward, I was really debating posting this. Writing is a fun hobby, opening up to this much judgement however is a lot. To be clear, I’ve got quite a lot of this written already. About 34 pages to be exact, Arthur won’t get his own chapter until chapter 5, if I even decide it’s worth doing this.


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